A Study in Green
by tsora17
Summary: Sherlock and John take in a seemingly ordinary woman on Mycroft's request. Sherlock finds it difficult to believe that she is important to national security, but why else would Mycroft send Ava to them? M for later chapters. Sherlock/John/AU character. - Complete
1. The American

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. This is just a bit of fun. Rated M - for later chapters.

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Ch. 1 - The American

"I need you to look after someone for me." Mycroft Holmes twirled the end of his umbrella as he looked at his little brother – unkempt in his pajamas and dressing gown and sitting in his usual chair legs crossed and with his usual air of disdain apparent.

"Do it yourself. Isn't that why you have safe houses sprawled around the country?"

"The lady in question is a special case. American. Privy to a wide variety of sensitive information."

"What sort of information?" John Watson turned around from the little table where he was writing up their last adventure.

"The sort we don't want falling into the wrong hands." Mycroft was as enigmatic as ever. He could tell that little brother wasn't impressed. He'd have to try and sweeten the deal.

"I'll even go so far to say that I'll owe you a favour if you do this, Sherlock."

Sherlock cocked his head and considered Mycroft for a moment before jumping from the chair and grabbing his violin turning his back to both John and Mycroft. He played the first verse of the Star Spangled Banner for a moment before going into one of his rants.

"Ugh! I can't stand Americans. Over confident, over weight rejects who think that just because they tossed some tea into the Boston Harbor that the world owes them a living. No, Mycroft, she cannot stay here."

"Sherlock!" Mycroft hissed.

"No!"

"Sherlock!" This time it was John that called his name.

A glance told him that John was uneasy so he turned around in annoyance. "What?"

A woman stood in the room with two bags across her shoulder and bags of shopping in each hand. From how Mycroft and John had just acted, Sherlock knew the woman must have heard his comment. But, no visible sign of offense could be gleaned from her face. In fact, she grinned slightly with one corner of her mouth.

"Sherlock, John, let me introduce Ava Greer to you."

A normal man would have quickly apologized for this faux pas, but this was Sherlock. He crossed the room with speed taking in all the information he could from her cataloging it in his mind as he went: 5 foot 6 inches tall, shoulder length curly brown hair, a glow to her skin, no make-up, plump but not obese, no recognizable perfume, but an aroma of vegetables – maybe from the shopping bags. Attired in basic moss green t-shirt and blue jeans. Why did Americans always where blue jeans? Boring in a nutshell. What could this little non-entity know that Mycroft would end up owing Sherlock a favour? Sherlock stopped himself. That mystery alone intrigued him. With no other case looming to engage his mind, this was enough to lure Sherlock in.

"Ok. You can stay." He almost went back to playing the violin, but turned back abruptly. "I hope you don't expect me to _apologize_." He recalled how he had to apologize constantly to Molly and Mrs. Hudson. Women expected men to apologize. And John. John expected him to apologize. He had a hard enough time of it with apologizing to people he secretly cared about. He wasn't in the mood to start apologizing to a new non-entity.

The woman grinned broadly. "You're a high functioning sociopath with delusions of British grandeur. Of course I don't expect an apology. Do you mind if I put these bags down?"

Sherlock slightly shocked chose to ignore her, but John jumped up. "I'll show you the kitchen."

She glided past Sherlock and followed John..

"I'll let you get settled in then." Mycroft rose to leave. Ava came back to the front room. They shook hands then Mycroft reached for his coat. Sherlock stared out of the window and pretended to compose. Even with their voices lowered, Sherlock heard their parting words.

"I know this can be done, Mycroft."

"I wished I shared your optimism, Ava.

"Give me time. I'll get the job done."

"I hope so. I'm taking a big risk."

"If you didn't trust me, you wouldn't have brought me here."

"True." With that, Mycroft left. Sherlock watched Ava return to the kitchen.

Sherlock allowed himself a smile. Maybe there was more to this American than he had thought before. Small dried green splatters on the back of her right forearm. Definitely something of interest.


	2. Juice

Again, I don't own anything. Pity.

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Chapter 2 - Juice

With Mycroft gone, John helped Ava unpack the shopping. He didn't know if it was considerate or presumptuous that she brought food when she didn't know whether or not Sherlock would say yes. 'Wait a minute,' John thought to himself and then walked over to Sherlock still facing the window. It had all happened so quickly that John just realized the obvious.

"You didn't even ask my opinion."

Sherlock didn't turn around. "What?"

"About Ava staying. You didn't even ask me."

"Well, I knew you'd say 'yes'."

"And how's that then?"

Sherlock swiveled his head and eyed his roommate up and down. "You're always a sucker for damsels in distress." Completely turning around, Sherlock glanced at Ava in the kitchen. She looked up at the two men and smiled. While Ava was no beauty queen, her smile was pleasant. "Especially the oddly pretty ones."

John ignored the barb – mostly because he didn't want to admit that it was true – but also because he had thought of another question.

"Where's she going to sleep? I'm not giving up my room."

Sherlock looked down at John. He knew this was going to be a challenge. Laying down his violin and bow, Sherlock crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Neither am I."

Ava settled the argument before it had a chance to begin. "Boys, don't be silly. I wouldn't dream of asking either of you to give up your room. I can kip on the sofa. I'm just grateful you both are letting me stay here in the first place."

"But that means you'll be walking around in your night things." Sherlock was a little taken aback. Apart from Irene, no other woman had stayed in his flat before.

"Sherlock, I hate to break it to you, but you are walking around in your night things right now."

"That's different."

"How is that…? Never mind. What if I promise to keep the Victoria's Secrets under wraps while I'm here? Would that set your mind at rest?"

Before Sherlock could begin to start his sentence: "What's …?", John cut him off.

"That'll be great. Thanks, Ava. Problem solved."

Ava turned back to the kitchen, but heard Sherlock continue with John, "What's Victoria's secret? Who's Victoria?"

Ava grinned and said over her shoulder. "If you boys don't mind, I'll make us some juice now."

At that Sherlock sprinted to the kitchen, "Don't touch my experiments."

"Wouldn't dream of it. I just need some room to put my juicer."

John followed Sherlock and finally saw what shopping Ava had brought with her. Sherlock was examining the unpacked contents on the countertop. Cucumbers, apples, kale, celery, lemons, and ginger. Not what John would have brought if he were a guest in somebody's house. He couldn't think of anything that would taste nice if all those ingredients were in them.

Out of one of the other bags that had been across her shoulder, Ava brought out a strange looking device. Almost like an old fashioned meat grinder, it was more wide than tall and Ava put the parts together with effortless speed.

John couldn't believe his eyes as he watched Ava proceed to use all those things in her juicer at the same time.

Sherlock watched Ava from a fascination not for what she was putting in the juice but from the way that she was doing it. She moved about the place with a strange sort of energy about her. What was it? Ah, confidence. Ava was walking around as if she already knew the place. She walked around, Sherlock hated to admit it, a bit like himself.

As the juice was collected into a little cup, Sherlock's optimism faltered. Now he knew where the green splatters came from. Sherlock was quite disappointed the answer was this mundane. He had hoped it would be something that would lead him to why Mycroft wanted her protected.

"Here you go, boys. Cheers." Ava handed them each a glass of dark green liquid.

Although John was thinking it, only Sherlock had the lack of manners to say, "That looks revolting."

"So does half of the things in your refrigerator. At least this is edible."

Sherlock answered her with his deadpan stare.

"Listen, forget caffeine, forget nicotine, forget whatever your recreational drug of choice is. Juice gives your brain a natural boost."

"It's green."

"That's the kale."

"What's that?"

"Dark, leafy green vegetable."

"Never heard of it."

Finally, John popped into the conversation. "I'm not surprised."

Sherlock turned to look at John.

"Solar system. That's all I'm going to say."

Sherlock wanted to say something sharp, but Ava charged ahead. "Look, boys, drink a glass each and I'll leave you alone the rest of the morning. I need to say 'Hello' to Mrs. Hudson and do a few things. Besides, I know how hard it is to get private time."

John looked exasperated, "I'm not actually gay."

Sherlock downed the juice in one go not bothering to taste it. Taste buds didn't matter when all he wanted was to get rid of this American for the rest of the morning. She was starting to get on his nerves already.

John was a little harder sell. He closed his eyes and took one tentative sip. Then another. "Not bad." He finished his juice, and Ava smiled.

"Thanks. I'll just leave you two to it then." She patted each of them on the arm before heading out the door and down the stairs.

"Not gay!" John yelled behind her and walked off in a huff.

Half an hour later, John walked back into the kitchen to find Sherlock in the exact same stance as he was before Ava left.

"Have you done it?"

"Done what?"

"I asked you to go downstairs and get that American girl."

"When was that?"

"Ten minutes ago."

"Why?"

"I need more juice!"


	3. The Hook

I don't own Sherlock. This is just a bit of fun.

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Chapter 3 – The Hook

The next few days were fairly uneventful. John worked at the surgery and on his blog. When John wasn't using his laptop, Ava stayed on it for hours at a time pulling up information from her flash drive while Sherlock pretended to stay busy. One afternoon Ava was so engrossed with her work that she didn't bother to acknowledge Sherlock's covert attention to her.

Sherlock documented her progress in his mind as he watched her from the corner of his eye. She was not as obvious in her emotions as most women he'd observed. But after a sharp shriek of frustration, Ava finally broke taking her cup of tea and throwing it across the room hitting Sherlock's smiley face right in the center. Bits of china scattered to the floor.

She looked at the back of Sherlock's head as he still pretended to read. "Shut up." Her voice was more matter of fact than annoyed.

Sherlock didn't look up from his reading. "I didn't say anything."

"But you were thinking it."

He took a deep breath to calm himself. How did this little nobody have the audacity to assume his thoughts? Finally turning around and looking up at her. "What was I thinking then?"

"Yobbish American…hormonal woman…take your pick. I've heard it all." Most women would have said it with attitude, but Ava remained detached.

At this, Sherlock chuckled to himself. At least she didn't get flustered easily. Sherlock thought he'd try another tactic. Maybe a compliment would make her start to act like a typical woman. "Actually, I was thinking good shot."

"Oh," Ava paused a moment, "Thanks."

"You know, I could give you a hand with it. If you like." Sherlock flashed one of his helpful yet obvious smiles. This worked on Molly. Maybe it would work on Ava too.

"No. Thanks though. I just need to take a break."

Sherlock huffed inwardly. She didn't get flustered. Compliments didn't work. He began to think she wasn't even a woman at all. However, a discrete glance at her curves dispelled that thought.

"You could always make more juice. It's been ages since I had one."

"I made some for breakfast and lunch."

"Exactly."

"Have you figured out why it works?"

"Juicing allows the nutrients to be more easily absorbed into the blood stream – hence a more direct line of energy for the brain."

"Very good."

Sherlock smugly grinned. "Elementary."

"If it was so elementary, why have you been relying on other stimulants?"

"Boredom. And because I can't be bothered to make any myself."

"I could teach John how to do it. Then he could make it for you."

"True. But he's not here now. You're here." The detective's voice was detached and to the point.

"True." Ava replied before heading toward the kitchen.

* * *

Sherlock spent that evening watching crap telly. John cleaned up the supper dishes, and Ava settled onto the sofa and tried to read. A pile of books taken from the shelves rested on the floor. But no matter how she concentrated or how she tried, she couldn't get interested in any of them. In the middle of one of Sherlock's yells at the screen, his phone rang.

"Lestrade? Really? We'll be right over."

He jumped up from his chair grinning like a madman. "Come on, John. We've got one."

Ava sprang from the sofa and grabbed her coat.

"Where do you think you're going?" was Sherlock's imperious reply to Ava's actions.

"I want to come with you."

Sherlock looked at her suspiciously. Was she sent by Mycroft just to spy on him? "Why?"

"I'm bored."

"You've got Mycroft's job to do."

"And I've hit a roadblock. I need a diversion. Need to get my mind off it. Surely you can understand that. You of all people."

Sherlock took a quick glance at John who nodded his consent to her tagging along.

"Two conditions: One: Stay out of our way. Two: when we get back, you tell me what Mycroft has you doing."

" 'Yes' to the first one and 'No' to the second one."

"No?" Sherlock took a dangerous step in Ava's direction. He was irritated. He had a case to get to, and he was wasting his time on this girl.

Ava just grinned and retained her composure. "No. If you don't let me come, I won't make any more juice."

"John can make it."

"I haven't taught him yet. And you, Sherlock, are already hooked on it."

'Damn!' was the silent yell that came from Sherlock's mind. Unwilling to let Ava see how upset he was, Sherlock said through gritted teeth, "Come on then."


	4. The Body

I don't own Sherlock. Shame.

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Chapter 4 – The Body

The taxi ride to St Bart's hospital was a quiet one. Sherlock was still mad that he had to bring Ava along. Ava was doing her part not to make him any angrier, and John thought it best to leave things alone.

When the three of them walked into the morgue, Molly Hooper and Lestrade were there. Molly was there in her usual lab coat and pulled back hair. Before she could even say a nervous "Hello" to Sherlock, she noticed Ava.

"Sherlock? Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" The slight tremble in her voice betrayed Molly's fear that Ava was his girlfriend.

Sherlock was busy looking at the corpse. So John offered, "Oh. Molly, this is Ava Greer..."

Jumping in before John could say anymore, Ava offered to shake Molly's hand. "Sherlock's cousin from America. Nice to meet you, Molly."

"Cousin?" Offered an intrigued Lestrade. Cousins were something that other people had – not Sherlock Holmes.

"Oh. That's nice." Molly breathed a sigh of release as she took Ava's hand and relaxed.

Both John and Sherlock's heads turned sharply to Ava upon hearing the word 'Cousin', but stayed quiet.

Molly continued. "I didn't even know Sherlock had cousins."

"I'm not surprised he's never mentioned me. Sherlock's never wanted to own me."

The strange phrase of words caught Molly's attention. "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry. That's a Southern phrase. He's never wanted to admit that we're related. Thinks Americans are beneath him. Mind you, I don't think the he's ever gotten over the Battle of New Orleans."

"What's that?"

"Only the battle where Stonewall Jackson beat back the British in the War of 1812."

"Ava." Sherlock's voice was a delicate balance of tension and annoyance. "Remember the condition of you coming along."

Ava grinned at the dark haired detective. "Sorry, cuz. I'll be quiet."

" 'Cuz' " Lestrade chuckled quietly to himself.

Sherlock chose to ignore him. "Lestrade, just take us through the details."

"Ok. Marcus Woodard, 55 years old, University Professor. Field of chemistry. Found dead tonight in the classroom laboratory. No sign of heart attack or stroke. Unusual swelling round the eyes..."

"And?"

"And the body was positioned in the form of a cross. Also, someone left four of these on him. One at his head, one at his feet, and one at either arm."

Lestrade handed him a bag of four small white flowers. Each flower had four petals and a yellowy green center.

"What kind of consulting work did he do?"

"How did you know…? He consulted with a major pesticide firm. "

"I observed. Look at his clothes. Way too expensive for just an ordinary professor. He had another job which brought in a lot more money than teaching. Molly, any signs of puncture marks where he might have been stabbed or injected with anything?"

"None."

"Hmm. John, get on the computer and find out what these actually are." Sherlock handed him the bag of flowers.

"Dogwood blooms." The words came from a definitive non-British accent.

Everybody turned and looked at Ava. Many people would have felt uncomfortable with that pressure but she continued. "John, can I have a closer look?"

The surprised Watson handed the bag to her.

"Yes, definitely dogwood blooms. Your killer is a theology student from the South Eastern United States who has just come back from the Easter holiday. Woodard's been poisoned with mercury hidden in his contact solution."

Sherlock brushed past John with a force sending him backward. Solving crimes like this was what he did.

"Explain." Sherlock hissed.

"These are blooms from the dogwood tree - _**Cornus florida **_– native to eastern North America. Easter was early this year – late March in fact. But the South has had a warm spring while the North has had a lot of snow. So, the only place these could be blooming at this time of year is the South. Now, how do I know about the theology student? Well, the legend of the dogwood says that it was the tree used for Christ's cross. The tree was so sad that it twisted it's trunk as to never be used for that again and that it's bloom turned into the shape of a cross so that people would always remember. See the dark edges of each petal? That's supposed to be the blood of Christ."

"What a sad story." Molly chirped in. Sherlock ignored her.

"Theology student?" He glared down at Ava.

"Yes. Or at least a student well steeped in Christian stories. Enough to know the legend and the significance of placing a bloom at each of the four points around the body. And one that needed enough chemical knowledge to administer the poison."

"How do you know it was mercury? Why contact solution? Molly, is the toxicology report back yet?" Sherlock barked those last words. Molly jumped.

"Not yet." Was her quiet, mousy reply.

Sherlock's aggressiveness was getting on Ava's nerves. He wasn't the only one that could observe things. If he wanted observations, she'd give him some.

"Notice the old warn marks on the bridge of his nose? He's just stopped wearing heavy glasses. If his eyesight is bad enough for heavy glasses, he'd still need some sort of eye correction – probably contacts. I'd say the killer added mercury to Woodard's contact solution. Look at the swelling around the eyes. Mercury causes swelling."

Sherlock didn't even glance back at the body. "Motive?"

"Woodard was working for a pesticide firm. Some Christians believe that pesticides poison the earth and that they should 'destroy them which destroy the earth'. There are plenty of religious fanatics in the States – not all of them follow Allah."

"That was amazing." John said, echoing his response to Sherlock's explanation of his observations of when they first met.

Sherlock felt a lump in his throat and a thud in the back of his stomach. Chemical emotions started flooding his system too fast and too hard for him to interpret what they meant. He needed time to analyze what was happening to him and he didn't want to do it in front of other people. So, the consulting detective bolted out of the morgue without another word.

Ava closed her eyes and whispered, "Shit."

Molly's eyes followed the retreating Sherlock. "You are so his cousin."


	5. Impressions

I do not own Sherlock - only my original characters. Thanks for the reviews. Always grateful for the comments.

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Ch 5 – Impressions

Half an hour after Sherlock left, John hailed a taxi for himself and Ava. The ride back to Baker Street was just as quiet as the one to the morgue had been. Ava felt awful for showing Sherlock up in front of his friends. But, she had only been trying to help. In the darkened cab, she rested her hand on the seat. She was so lost in her thoughts that it took her a moment to register John's fingers lightly reaching for her own. Ava jumped and crossed her hands in her lap.

"I'm sorry, John. I'm flattered. Really. But I'm just not good at that sort of thing." She turned her head away from him and focused on the London streets.

John faced forward as he always did when confronted with information he knew he wouldn't like. Somehow he could take things better that way.

"What 'sort of thing' would that be then?"

"Relationships…sex…."

John thought for a moment. Ava was so much like Sherlock in every other respect maybe she was a virgin too?

As if hearing John's thoughts, Ava continued. "I've had both before, John. I'm just not any good at them. I respect you a great deal – for your compassion and patience. Please forgive me for wanting to stay friends."

Coming to a stop outside 221B, Ava almost bolted out of the cab. John quickly paid the driver and followed her.

"Ava!" John called after her. The dark haired woman turned around to look at him. A gaze as piercing as Sherlock's met his own. John let out a sigh and continued. "There's nothing to forgive. Friends it is." John smiled and opened his arms to her for a moment. Her demeanor changed as she smiled and gave him a hug. His embrace was strong and calm.

As they broke away from each other, John brought his thoughts back to more mundane things.

"Fancy Chinese? The take-away should still be open."

"Great idea. Do you mind if I pop upstairs now though? I can get the plates ready. I hate eating off styrofoam."

Handing Ava his keys, John replied, "Here. Let yourself in," and started to walk away.

"John." Ava called him back.

"What?"

"You don't think I've upset Sherlock too badly, do you? I was only trying to help. You don't think he'll do anything … silly?"

John walked back to her and gave Ava's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Sherlock Holmes is a big boy. He makes his own choices. I'm sure he'll be fine."

Ava's eyes flashed up at John's. She could tell a change in him. "Then why is your hand trembling?"

He couldn't believe Ava's astuteness. "I'll be back in a minute." John released Ava's hand, smiled, and walked toward the Chinese restaurant.

* * *

As John tried to focus on the basic task of ordering food, his mind was determined to figure out what he had just done and why.

He had only known Ava a few days and already he had made a pass at her. It wasn't as though he was all that desperate, but something about her was so familiar that it made his chest hurt. He kept coming back to the comparisons between her and Sherlock. But why should he? Yes, they were both intelligent and clever. But it was more than that. Somehow he could tell that they both used their cleverness as a shield from being hurt by the outside world.

The protective nature in John flared. Now he had two misfits to take care of.

* * *

Sherlock thundered down the street not consciously deciding where he was going. He needed time to process the chemical reactions going on inside him. Irene had once said, 'Brainy is the new sexy.' Now he knew what she meant. As his brain shifted information around in his Mind Palace, Sherlock grudgingly came to the conclusion that Ava was the sexiest woman he had ever met.

While Irene was the closest he'd come to being attracted to a woman in the past, part of her tactics was always to shock. Ava was a different matter altogether. She hadn't meant to shock. Her words were matter of fact and calm. She also wasn't trying to turn Sherlock into a gibbering idiot with lack of clothing. But Ava had stopped him cold with her observations and logical conclusions. He was impressed, and no one ever impressed him. No one except John. John's ability to channel Sherlock's thoughts into breakthroughs always impressed him. Sherlock never admitted it for long, but he needed John more and more as time progressed.

Ava stimulated his mind the same way that only cases did. Maybe it was just that she had solved the case that had started his testosterone pumping? But he had only ever had that reaction when he solved the case himself. Could it be that he wanted a relationship with this American? The strangeness of that thought stopped him cold. Sherlock took a deep breath. Looking up, he realized he was right across the street from 221B. But before he could cross the road, a taxi pulled up. Ava and John exited the cab while Sherlock observed them unnoticed.

They spoke, embraced, and spoke some more before holding hands and parting. 'John must be getting food,' was his first thought. Then Sherlock's mind processed what he saw.

"They must be together now. John and Ava are…a couple." Sherlock said the words aloud, and his ego deflated. He didn't know why that should surprise him so. Ava was an intelligent woman. John responded to intelligence. It was logical for him to be attracted to her. But, he could not figure out why this should create a pain in his chest so much. His John had beaten him to Ava – this was clear. The man in him told Sherlock to be happy for his friends. The child in him wanted to pout because Ava and John would now be excluding him from part of their lives. Sherlock crossed the road. As he followed Ava into the flat, the child in him won.


	6. The Child

I don't own Sherlock - just my original characters. Thanks for the reviews. Please keep them coming.

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Ch 6 – The Child

As Ava starting setting the table, she made room for three people. She hoped Sherlock would come to his senses and return soon. She had a respect for him and wanted to explain. Besides, she needed his help and didn't want him to be in one of his moods.

From the corner of her eye, Ava saw a blur that she registered as Sherlock fly into the room and hover around the sofa for a moment before bearing down on her. He held something small tight in his hand.

"_You_ didn't uphold your end of the bargain. You didn't stay out of the way. So, I'm not going to uphold mine. Tell me what you are doing for Mycroft."

Ava realized that Sherlock held her flash drive in his hand. He must have known that she was hiding it inside the binding of one of the books she had been reading. Damn, he was good.

She tried to remain calm. "Sherlock. Give that back, please."

"Hmm." He tilted his head. His dark curls bounced a little. "No."

Ava reached for the flash drive. Sherlock held it over his head – taking full advantage of the differences in their height.

"Sherlock." Ava's tone became softer but more intense. "Give that back or I'll…"

Stepping closer to Ava, Sherlock projected his dark and dangerous side on her. "Or you'll what?"

Unwilling to back down, "I'll take it from you."

"I'd love to see you try." His voice dropped down an octave.

"Darlin'," Ava's Southern accent crooned, "Be careful what you ask for."

With a blinding speed, Ava elbowed Sherlock directly in the stomach with all her force. Taken aback for a split second, the detective dropped his arms. Ava took the opportunity to reach for the memory stick. But he recovered quickly and pushed her away. She stumbled into the sitting room and caught herself on the back of John's chair.

"Well, if you won't tell me, maybe I'll just find out for myself." Sherlock grinned mischievously before he sprinted into his bedroom and locked the door.

Ava pounded on the heavy wood. "God damnit, Sherlock! Don't do this!"

Silence was her only answer.

"It's password protected. You only get two chances to get it right before it will burn itself up."

Still, no reply.

"Fucking asshole!" Ava muttered under her breath. She knew she wasn't strong enough to break down a solid door, but there were other ways. Ava grabbed one of her bags and rummaged through it.

Finding her small screwdriver kit and a hairpin, Ava worked on the lock. Moments later, she heard the lock click and flung the door open.

Sherlock sat on the bed, legs crossed. His oozing air of superiority was momentarily checked.

His eyes followed up and down Ava's body. The American was full of surprises.

"You can pick locks." His tone was almost complimentary.

Ava ignored him. "Where is it?"

"Oh, you'll never find it. I've had two minutes and 29 seconds in which to hide it. It could be anywhere."

Ava walked around the room looking at every thing – from the floor to the desk to the dresser.

"You should just give up now and tell me what's on it."

"I'm not the giving up type." A moment later, Ava turned on him with a dark smile of her own. "It's still on your person."

Sherlock stared at her giving nothing away.

"No one's been into clean for a few weeks. There's a consistent layer of dust throughout the room. You haven't moved anything; therefore, it's still on you."

"Even if that were true, how are you going to get it?"

"Watch me!"

Ava pounced on Sherlock with a ferocity that he had never experienced before. Her hands were everywhere trying to find the concealed memory stick – around his long arms, down his chest and sides, sliding down his abdomen. Sherlock could barely register his own reactions while trying to fight her off at the same time. Suddenly, he gained the upper hand and pinned Ava's arms above her.

He pressed down on her. As Ava caught her breath, she realized that she could feel Sherlock's arousal bearing down on her thigh. She looked up and their eyes met.

"Sherlock? What?"

"Ava? Ava, where are …? Oh, my God."

John stood in the doorway to Sherlock's room. The last thing he expected to see was a very animalistic Sherlock panting on top of Ava. In their current position, the tops of Ava's breasts were visible and Sherlock's slim form was perfectly framed by his tight shirt and trousers. The visual undid him. After recovering from shock, John closed his gaping mouth and walked quickly away.

Ava pushed Sherlock off her with considerable effort and went after John. She only caught up with him when he reached the sidewalk.

"John, wait. There's nothing going on."

John gave her an incredulous look. "And I thought you weren't good at 'that sort of thing'." John tried to hide it, but Ava could detect the hurt in his words.

"Well, there is something going on. Sherlock's got my memory stick. I was trying to get it back."

"Like I'm going to believe that one. Listen, if you fancied Sherlock, you could have just told me."

"But I …"

"Don't, Ava. Just don't." John walked away without another word. She watched him till he disappeared from sight.

Ava tried to let herself back into the flat, but to no avail. The main door had shut and locked behind her. She knocked on the door. "Sherlock… it's Ava. Can you let me in?"

Silence. How could she have cocked things up like this? She had come to Sherlock and John for their help. She would need both of them before it was all over. And within less than a week she'd been able to alienate both of them and probably destroyed their relationship with each other.

Then another realization hit her. Mrs. Hudson was staying with her sister for a few days. She had no way back into the flat. She'd come out without her mobile and without her purse. She had no money and no way to get in touch with anyone. She sighed to herself and started walking - in the opposite direction that John took. She didn't want him thinking that she was coming after him.

Finding a deserted park bench, Ava sat down. The night air was chilly. And of course, she hadn't put on her coat before chasing John out into the cold. A moment later she felt the beginning drops of rain fall on her face. Closing her eyes tight, her response to the last half hour could be summed up in two words. Ava whispered them breathlessly to herself, "Fuck me."


	7. The Boys

I don't own Sherlock. Thanks for the reviews.

* * *

Ch 7 – The Boys

If Sherlock had had a hard time processing the fact that he found Ava attractive, dealing with his body's reactions to their wrestling match was even more challenging. Everything happened so fast that his mind didn't have time to think. Now that Ava had left him and run after John, there was plenty of time.

He could not let go of the fact that he had reacted to Ava in a very unSherlock manner. HE didn't get 'hard-ons' as he believed the phrase was. His mind was always in control. As a teenager, he had found his body disappointing. It had been logical then to ignore that part of himself and only focus on the part that did excel – his mind.

Then there was the reaction to John finding them. Instead of being embarrassed, Sherlock's body had found John being there reassuring and (he almost hated to admit it) an additional turn on as well.

Sherlock wasn't surprised that Ava had run after John. Of course he was the more emotionally stable candidate for her affections. Women liked stable. Also, John had mountains more experience than Sherlock.

"Who'd want an inexperienced over 30 year old as a lover?" Sherlock derided himself. No. Best that Ava have John. His John was a good man. That's clearly what she wanted. Besides, that's what she deserved.

Sherlock, still fully clothed, rolled onto his side and curled himself into a ball. His little stunt had probably ruined his friendship with John and Ava. And he didn't know if he could handle losing both of them.

* * *

In the cheap hotel room that John had rented, the images in John's mind of Sherlock on top of Ava wouldn't let the doctor rest. John admitted that he found Ava attractive. But something about seeing her with Sherlock unnerved him. The more he told himself he shouldn't think of it, the more his mind focused on that scene.

What had it felt like to Sherlock to finally let go? What had it felt to Ava to be on the receiving end of Sherlock's pent up passions? At least he knew now that Sherlock had passions. He just wished Ava had been honest with him.

Of course Ava preferred Sherlock over him. Sherlock was dashing and exciting. He was just 'John' – the man that nothing ever happened to unless he tagged around with the consulting detective.

The same things that drew John to Sherlock were bound to drive women to him as well. This was just the first time that Sherlock had fully responded to one of them. John took a deep breath and sighed. He didn't want to lose Sherlock's friendship, but he didn't know if he could see him in a relationship either. That was a train wreck waiting to happen, and he didn't know if he'd have the strength to pick up the pieces of any romance Sherlock might embark on.

John shoved a pillow over his head. He had to work at the surgery tomorrow and needed to get some manner of sleep.

* * *

_John, is Ava with you? She has not called today. – MH_

_No. Should be with SH. Go away. – JW_

* * *

_Sherlock, where is Ava? She has not reported in as scheduled. – MH_

_She's with JW. – SH_

_No, she's not. Will be at your place in 10 min. – MH_

* * *

_John, Ava is not with SH. She is missing. Will pick you up in 5 min. – MH_

John read that last text and hung his head. Now what had Sherlock done?

* * *

John took the steps two at a time to reach his flat. He found Sherlock seated and staring at the sofa Ava slept on. Mycroft was just behind him. John noticed that Sherlock was still in the same clothes from last night.

"What happened last night, Sherlock?" John's tone was accusatory.

"That's exactly what I want to know." Sherlock rose from his chair and stood in front of John.

"Boys, boys. None of this will help find Ava. Sherlock, start from the beginning."

Sherlock looked at his brother with contempt. He knew how to conduct an interview. It just wasn't often that he was on the other side of it.

"Ava helped solve a case. I …took it badly and walked home. When I got here, I saw Ava and John hug and hold hands. I was flustered. While John went to get Chinese, I confronted Ava about what was on her memory stick. She tried to get it back from me. We struggled, and John found us in a compromising position. John walked off in a huff, and Ava followed him. That's the last time I saw her."

Mycroft walked around the room as Sherlock talked. "Do you still have the memory stick?"

"Yes. It's safe."

"John, what about you?"

"I tried to hold Ava's hand while we were in the taxi. She said she was flattered but not good at relationships…"

"Not surprising." Mycroft said under his breath.

"The hug Sherlock saw was because I told her being friends was fine."

"And the hand holding?" Sherlock butted in.

"Was trying to reassure her that you weren't so upset that you would do something stupid."

Mycroft continued, "So when you walked in and found Ava and Sherlock together…"

"I thought Ava had lied to me and that she fancied Sherlock."

"But she went after you."

"Yes, she tried to explain. I wouldn't listen and walked off."

Sherlock tilted his head. "Why wouldn't she come back inside though – if nothing else to get her purse and mobile?"

John hung his head. "She didn't have a key. I took mine with me when I stormed out."

Gesturing to a purse and mobile on the kitchen counter, Myrcroft added, "So Ava was stranded with no money and no communications."

Sherlock nodded towards the sofa. "And no coat. It's where she left it."

Mycroft fell into John's chair and put his head in his hands. "We've got to find her, Sherlock. If anything happens to her, how am I ever going to be able to tell Mummy?"

Sherlock's head snapped up.

"Mummy? What's she got to do with Ava?"

"Oh, Sherlock, is your memory really that bad of our childhood that you don't remember Avid?"

"Of course I remember Avid. What's Avid got to do with this?"

Mycroft gave Sherlock a cutting look, but John butted in.

"Who's Avid?"

"Our fifth cousin. She used to stay with us in the summers. Six years younger than Sherlock. He called her 'Avid' as a tease. Her real name was …"

"Ava." John finished for him.

"She worshipped Sherlock and he dotted on her."

"First cousin." Sherlock asserted.

"Fifth." Mycroft countered.

"Mummy said."

"Mummy lied. She saw you getting attached. That's why she lied and why she stopped Ava's visits. Because of that Mummy wanted my help in keeping her safe. She said she owed a favour to Great Aunty Lettice. Besides, what Ava is doing is of vital importance. But I couldn't use a safe house because it isn't strickly government work. So I came to you."

"You should have told me."

"Why? Would it have made you act any less of an idiot because of John's attention to her? It would have probably made things worse."

"Mycroft, go fu…"

Before Sherlock could finish his insult, his phone rang.

"Molly? What is it? This isn't a good time."

To John's disbelief, he watched his friend go paler.

"I'm on my way. Stay with her till I get there." Sherlock ran out of the room without another word to John or Mycroft. They looked at each other for a moment before saying, "St. Barts" in unison and followed Sherlock down the stairs.


	8. The Hospital

I obviously don't own Sherlock. And right now I don't own a decent computer. If I had a dollar for every time it shut down during the writing of the chapter, I could go and buy a new one. Oh, well. Anyway, I only own my original characters and the plot. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

* * *

Ch 8

"Taxi. Taxi!"

Reaching Baker Street, Sherlock frantically tried to hail a cab but to no avail.

"Sherlock!"

He turned his head to see John at Mycroft's car holding the door for him. He did an abrupt turn and filed into the car. John quickly followed him. Mycroft was already seated. The car quickly merged into the traffic.

Both Holmes men stared out the windows in opposite directions. Mycroft kept bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose while Sherlock's legs would not keep still.

"Listen, just because Molly called doesn't mean that Ava's …" John couldn't bear to finish that thought.

"Molly works in the morgue, John…" Mycroft almost said in a hiss.

Sherlock turned his head sharply towards his brother but said nothing.

Ignoring Mycroft, John continued, "Sherlock, what did Molly actually say?"

"Mo…Molly said, 'I'm here at St. Barts. Your cousin Ava is here. She…' and then Molly stopped."

"Oh." John breathed.

* * *

All three men raced to the morgue. Mycroft brought up the rear due to not being in as good of shape as Sherlock and John.

They barreled through the doors to find Molly standing over a body covered by a sheet.

Before Molly could speak, Sherlock blurted out, "Where is she? Where's Ava?" He looked down at the body expectantly. Was Ava under the sheet? No. She couldn't be.

Molly looked from Sherlock to John to Mycroft and back to Sherlock.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock."

The dark haired detective closed his eyes in disbelief. "No."

"You just missed her."

Sherlock's eyes popped open again. Those weren't words you'd say about the recently departed.

"She'll be back in a minute."

John tilted his head. "Molly, what are you talking about?"

"Ava insisted on going for coffee by herself."

"So. She's not dead?" John insisted.

"No. Why would she be dead?"

"Because you couldn't finish telling Sherlock what was going on over the phone."

Molly turned her head towards Sherlock. "How could I finish? He cut me off."

The intense relief Sherlock felt in knowing that his worst fears were not to be realized lasted a fleeting moment. "Wait a minute. Something is wrong though. Why would she have to 'insist' on going for coffee by herself?"

At that moment, the door to the morgue opened by Ava pushing her shoulder against it. One hand held a tray of coffees. The other hand was immobilized by a plaster cast.

Sherlock quickly relieved her of the coffees passing them off to John who almost dropped them due to the speed of Sherlock's movements. He took Ava's injured hand and inspected it.

"What happened? Are you all right? Does it hurt?"

"Long story. Yes, and yes."

Sherlock searched her eyes for confirmation that she was ok. She grinned up at him. Then to the surprise of everyone in the room, Sherlock flung his arms around Ava and hugged her fiercely.

After a few awkward moments and Sherlock still not letting go, Mycroft interrupted. "Hump. Hump."

Ava looked up at Sherlock in disbelief. Then she turned to Mycroft.

"You told him."

"You were lost. I was afraid you were injured or worse. You had to be found. Of course I told him."

Ignoring their words, Sherlock moved between Ava and Mycroft. "What happened?"

"I was locked out of the flat. I walked around London. It started to rain." Ava paused. "Then I got assaulted…"

"What!" Sherlock's blood started to boil. "Did you get a good look at him?"

"Not at the time. It was dark."

"But have you told the police?"

"Yes."

"Are they looking for him?"

"No."

"Why not?" Sherlock could feel the frustration building up in himself. A man had hurt someone he cared about. After all the times he'd helped the police, the least they could do would be to search for Ava's attacker.

"They know where he is. Listen, it's ok, Sherlock."

"It's not ok!" Sherlock voice mirrored the same anger that John's had when he shouted those words in the Baskerville case. He turned and noticed that everyone in the room was looking at him strangely. Well, more strangely than usual. He took a deep breath and continued only slightly more calm than before.

"Do _you_ know where he is?"

"Yes."

"Then, where is he?" Sherlock's voice bordered on being savage. He didn't care how long it took him, but he would make the man pay for hurting her.

Ava's eyes motioned towards the body on the slab.

All three men picked up on it. John ventured, "You…you killed him?"

"No. Of course not. As he was running away, he didn't bother to check the traffic. Got run over."

"And what did you do to your hand?" Mycroft added.

"At one point his head moved, and my hand hit the concrete. Broke it in two places. Between giving statements and getting it seen to, I haven't had time to catch my breath this morning – much less call you."

"I didn't…"

"You were thinking it, Mycroft. As soon as I was released by the doctors, I came down here. Molly tried to tell Sherlock what happened, but he cut her off."

"Molly." Sherlock breathed an audible sigh of relief and turned to the meek doctor.

"Yes?"

"Thank you." Sherlock walked over and kissed Molly on the cheek. When he pulled away, a wicked grin crossed his face. "And, fetch me my riding crop."

"Sherlock." Ava's voice was mildly disapproving.

"What?"

"Not now. I'm fighting off sleep from my natural tiredness and the painkillers they've given me, and I want to go back to the flat."

"In a moment. I need to talk to you." Mycroft moved towards Ava. "Alone."

"She's in no condition to answer your questions." Sherlock stepped up to Mycroft.

"It won't take long. Besides, it would give you time with the crop and the corpse."

Sherlock's eyes brightened. "Oh. Ok, then."

* * *

After five minutes of letting all his anger out on the dead body of the man who had attacked Ava, Sherlock felt remarkably calmer. The body was so damaged by the car's impact that a few score of lash marks wouldn't make much difference. John and Molly watched their friend with a silent fascination. When he was finished, they caught each other's eye for a split second before both blushed and looked away.

When Ava and Mycroft returned, Ava walked up to the detective and the doctor. "Sherlock, John."

"Yes." Sherlock grinned down at her. His mind still enjoying his time with the corpse. John simply nodded.

"Since I'm injured." Ava held up her hand. "Will you both help me with what I'm working on?" The look on her face showed discomfort in asking for their help. Sherlock noticed her uneasiness.

"Are you sure you really want our help?" The contentment in Sherlock's expression was replaced with worry. Maybe Mycroft was putting her up to this?

John continued. "After the way we acted last night, I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see us again much less work with us."

"Well, I do need the best." Ava sighed. "But, I guess you boys will just have to do."

The childlike smile on Sherlock's face rose and deflated in seconds. Then he saw the grin Ava was trying to hide.

"Come on, Sherlock, can't you take a tease?"

The smile on his face returned. He glanced to John who nodded his consent. "Of course we'll help."

"Good." Ava yawned. "Now, boys, I am truly shattered. Can you both take me home?"


	9. Explanations

I don't own Sherlock - just my characters and my plot. Thanks for your thoughts and reviews. They are all much appreciated.

* * *

Ch 9 - Explanations

The taxi ride back to Baker Street was definitely more relaxed than the one to St. Barts had been. Ava sat between Sherlock and John. She was so tired that her head inadvertently fell to the right and landed on Sherlock's shoulder. When he noticed it, he gently raised his arm. She slid into position under the crook of his arm, and he wrapped his hand around her shoulder. At the same time, Ava's left hand came to rest on John's right. She gave John a light squeeze before letting it rest there. John and Sherlock caught each other's eye and nodded. For all of Ava's calmness at the morgue, she wanted to feel safe; and they'd make sure that she did.

Sherlock allowed himself a moment to enjoy the relief of Ava being safe before analyzing his first reactions to seeing her again. The hug, he admitted, was unSherlock-like. He was the last person to acknowledge an emotional response to other people, but this was Avid. When he had seen Ava back at the morgue, he had looked at her for the first time and consciously connected the woman she was now to the girl from his past.

Of course, she had gone through all the normal changes that girls do when they become women; but Ava's brilliant smile, wild brown hair, and changeable hazel eyes stirred memories in him. No wonder he had found her features familiar. He had loved her as a sister in his youth.

For three summers, his strange American cousin stayed with them. Even though she was six years his junior, Ava preferred following him around than any other activity his mother might have for her. At first he found this immensely aggravating. He thought she was teasing him like most of the other children did at school. He even started calling her "Avid", to annoy her. Even at six years old, she always stressed that her name started with the long "A" sound not the short.

One day the twelve-year-old Sherlock decided he wanted to get rid of her unwanted attention. So, he took a ladybird from the garden and proceeded to drop it down her dress. To Sherlock's surprise, the six-year-old Ava did not scream. Instead, she shook the ladybird out of her dress, captured it again, and asked Sherlock if they could keep it and feed it. Sherlock agreed. As they took care of their ladybird, Ava told him of how they would catch lighting bugs in the summer at dusk, keep them in little jars for a few minutes to watch them glow, and release them before going to bed. The two spent the rest of the week researching both types of beetles.

When the fifteen-year-old Sherlock learned that his little cousin would not be visiting again, he visibly pouted. He had not even said 'goodbye' to her properly. He had truly cared for her and hated to think that she was not coming because of something he had done to upset her. Sherlock wanted to write to Ava, but his mother refused to give him the address. He spent two whole weeks trying to discover her address by rummaging through his mother's papers, but found nothing. While the teenage Sherlock had resigned himself to the situation, he also planted in his mind the hope that he would see her again someday.

Although the taxi stopping in front of the flat brought Sherlock out of his thoughts, Ava still slept. Gently, Sherlock removed his arm from her shoulder, stepped out of the cab, and collected her in his arms. John paid the taxi driver and rushed to open both doors for them.

Standing for a moment in the lounge and looking at the sofa Ava had been occupying, John and Sherlock looked in opposite directions and whispered at the same time, "She can sleep in my…"

Their eyes met for a second before Sherlock took her to his bedroom. John pulled back the unkempt sheets, and Sherlock laid her down. Reaching over to cover her with the duvet, Sherlock felt Ava shift and heard her moan slightly. She said in her half asleep voice, "Thank you, Locky."

John looked up sharply and suppressed a giggle. He didn't want to wake her up. But his gaze went to Sherlock's and grinned. John whispered, "Locky?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he whispered fiercely back. "Shut up!"

* * *

Each hour that Ava slept, Sherlock grew more frustrated. He wanted to find out what she was working on, and it had been ages since he last had juice. He needed to play the violin to help his brain work through the last 24 hours, but he dared not for fear of waking her.

This was a first. He had never not played because of concern for someone else. Even when John has sick or nursing a hangover, Sherlock still played. His anxiety worried John, and the doctor was so desperate to placate his flat-mate that he indulged him in a game of Cluedo.

Finally, a very groggy looking Ava emerged from Sherlock's room.

Both men turned their heads to look at their guest.

"Can we get you anything, Ava?" John offered rising from his seat.

"Juice." She waved him to sit back down. "I'll make it."

"Don't be silly." John moved into the kitchen. "Tell me how to do it. You were going to teach me anyway."

Wanting to observe everything about Ava's condition now that she was awake, Sherlock followed them.

After making the first glass, John gave it to Ava who promptly handed it to her cousin.

"You need this more than I do."

"No…"

"Don't argue. Besides, you need to be able to focus. Nothing focuses you like juice."

Sherlock grudgingly agreed. Besides, he didn't want to upset her, and he knew she was right. As John made the second juice, Ava went through their cupboards and set packages of food on the counter.

"Ava," began Sherlock wiping a little green mustache off his well-defined top lip. "I thought you were going to tell us how we can help you." He glanced down at his cousin, " – not start dinner."

"I am telling you. Look at the ingredients in these foods. What do you see that is similar?"

"Boring." Sherlock refused to even pick up one box. Food was just another rudimentary part of existence.

"John, please indulge me. What do you see?"

The doctor read the ingredients completely. "I see lots of long, scientific words."

"Good. Any terms that aren't long and scientific but you still wouldn't expect to see in food?"

"Um, let's see, maybe 'genetically modified corn starch'."

"Thank you. Genetically Modified Organisms or GMOs are …"

Sherlock butted in, "GMOs are crops which have been genetically engineered for specific reasons. Usually to increase yield or …"

"Myth number 1."

"Don't interrupt, Ava."

"Or what? I'm not six anymore, Sherlock."

"No. So I would have thought you'd have better manners." He paused for a second. "If you insist on interrupting, I can always have you over my knee and spank you like Mummy did when you broke her antique Spode vase."

John's and Ava's faces turned abruptly to Sherlock. The images that went through all three of their minds stopped them cold. The realization of what Sherlock had just suggested and their implications even stunned the detective himself into silence.

Ava recovered first and chose to do what the two men were doing – ignore the comment. She took a deep breath and hoped her voice didn't betray her reaction to Sherlock's words.

"I've been working with a British scientist who is on the inside of one of the big GMO manufacturers. For six months, Dr. Clive Dwyer would mail information to a post office box I had taken in Stafford. A month ago, he disappeared. Two days before he disappeared, he…"

"He sent you the memory stick." Sherlock finished for her.

"Yes. I've been trying to figure it out ever since."

"What's on it?" John joined in.

"Loads of information: reports, scientific data, office emails. But, from what I can tell, all the information is already available to the public – even the info in the emails. There is nothing earth shattering in it. Why send it to me and why would he be silenced for it?"

"What interest does Mycroft have in it?" Sherlock added.

"Well, apart from doing this as a family favour, if we can find evidence that the makers of GMOs admit they are dangerous, we can take them out of the food supply."

"So?"

"Sherlock, you always complain about how stupid most people are."

"That's because they are."

"Well, it's not all their fault. Dead, processed, genetically modified food eaten year after year affects the brain. The GMO companies know this." Ava stepped closer to Sherlock. "You know this because you can tell the difference from your brain on regular "food" and your brain on juice. Which is better for thinking, Sherlock?"

"Juice, obviously."

"But why would you want a population that's stupid?" John asked.

Sherlock's mouth turned up at the corner. "It'd make people easier to control, easier to manipulate into doing what you want." His smiled broadened. "Oh, this is good. This is very good. A missing person, a possible murder, plus the intrigue of a corporate global conspiracy."

Sherlock grabbed Ava by the shoulders and kissed her soundly on the cheek.

"Thank you, little cousin. This will be fun!"


	10. Roadtrip

Thanks for the reviews and patience. Love to hear everyone's thoughts. I don't own Sherlock - just my story and original characters.

* * *

Chapter 10 - Roadtrip

Sherlock quickly released Ava, wrapped his scarf around his neck, threw his coat across his thin frame, and raced down the stairs. John and Ava just stared after him and then at each other.

Ava smiled. "He does that all the time. Doesn't he?"

"Of course. He's Sherlock." John sighed lightly.

"And, that's why we love him."

John threw a sideways look at Ava. He paused a moment. "I'm not..."

"There's all kinds of love, John. Just because you're straight doesn't mean you don't love him."

John released a long breath. "True." His eyes gazed intently on the door.

"Oh, for goodness sake, John. Go after him. I'm not up for a round of chasing after Sherlock, but you go."

John hesitated. "I hate to leave you. You still seem tired."

"Don't worry about me. I'm just going to rest. I won't be good company anyway. I promise I'll be fine."

John smiled, patted Ava's shoulder, and headed for the door. His phone was already out of his pocket texting Sherlock to find out where he was going.

* * *

By the time John caught up with Sherlock, the detective was back at St Barts.

"What are you doing?"

Sherlock looked through the microscope. "X-raying the memory stick."

John just looked at him. "Why would Dwyer plant explosives or acid in it?"

Sherlock was impressed. John remembered how Irene had rigged her phone in case someone tried to unlock it without her consent. He had always loved the fact that John kept up with him better than most people.

"That's not what I'm looking for."

"What then?"

Sherlock sat back and looked at his blogger. "If Ava's looked through this thing for days on end and not found anything, the only other option is that Dwyer planted the information inside the stick on a memory chip separate from the drive of the device."

"But?"

"I don't see anything through the x-ray that looks abnormal." Sherlock rubbed his eyes, "And, I don't have anything else to go on."

"Hang on. You haven't even read the contents yet."

"No. Still don't have the password. I ran out of the flat before I could ask Ava." Sherlock paused. "Where is Ava?"

"Back at the flat. She was tired. She insisted that I come and help you."

"Quite right. But, I just don't like the idea of leaving her alone – so soon after last night." Sherlock retrieved the memory stick and started putting on his coat. "We should get back to her."

John looked at Sherlock and tilted his head.

Sherlock knew that look. "What is it, John?"

"Who are you? And what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?"

"What?"

"You never care about anyone else but yourself and the work. Now, you're . . ." John couldn't find the words.

Sherlock inhaled sharply. For a moment he was perplexed. Then he exhaled deeply and a little smugly. "You're jealous."

Now it was John's turn. "What?"

"You have to understand, John. Ava was the first person, outside Mummy and Mycroft, to not think I was a freak. She was my first. . . friend. My only other friend is you. I. . . care about you both."

"Oh, thanks." John's eyes went from Sherlock to the floor. He almost wished that he hadn't opened up that can of worms.

With Sherlock aware that John was content to let that conversation go, he walked out of the lab and John followed.

As they hopped into a cab, John ventured, "What do we do now?"

Sherlock glanced at him sideways – unsure of his intentions. Did he mean the case or his recent declaration that he cared? He hoped he hadn't given John the wrong idea. Sherlock still had no intentions of taking their relationship to a physical level.

John sensed his thoughts and emphasized. "With the _case_. What do we do with the case?"

"Oh, I need to get a better picture of this Dwyer and the GMO company he was working for."

"Ok. So we talk to Ava again?"

"Yes, but more than that. I need a look inside the offices and the factory."

"She said Dwyer posted information to an address in Stafford."

"Yes. He worked at Canston Chemicals in Stoke-on-Trent."

"How do you know that?"

"Ava would have wanted to stay close to Dwyer if the need to meet in person arose. Canston Chemicals in Stoke is the only GMO manufacturer in a twenty-five mile radius of Stafford. You'll need to hire a car, John."

John, as always was impressed with Sherlock's deductions, chose to keep his admiration in this time and simply said, "Oh. Ok."

* * *

Sherlock took the opportunity of the drive up to Stafford to go through the memory stick thoroughly on John's laptop. He spread his long legs out in the back of the Landrover and read the emails and reports Dwyer had saved to it.

John drove them in the rented car. Ava was bored in the passenger seat until she put a Florence and the Machine cd in to play. She started singing along to _Rabbit Heart_.

Sherlock started to complain but stopped himself as he looked up from the back seat. She seemed recovered from her night out in London except for her plastered hand. Her memory of the lyrics reminded Sherlock of how well she remembered things as a child. Many of her mannerisms made Sherlock think of the Avid he knew in his youth. He blushed to think that he had allowed himself to be aroused by her. But, he kept telling himself, that was before he had realized she was his cousin. Now he knew she was Avid, all those kinds of thoughts were shoved into the deepest cellar of his mind palace. And, the case presented to him helped tremendously in keeping them there.

John complained about the cost of taking the M6 Toll Road, but Ava assured him they didn't need to tackle the Birmingham traffic. Then taking the first Stafford exit, Ava directed John along a winding tour of B roads before telling him to turn into a little row of houses that backed onto Cannock Chase.

Ava let them into her house and started making coffee. John unloaded their bags while Sherlock sat down at Ava's kitchen table keeping his nose in the laptop. She brought the coffees to the table. John joined them, and they all enjoyed a well needed hot drink in silence.

Minutes later, Ava let out a long "Hmmm" sound.

Both men looked up at Ava. Sherlock noticed her flushed features – her blood rushing to her cheeks and lips.

"What's . . . wrong?" John took an unusual pause between words.

Sherlock turned to look at John. The doctor's face looked similar to Ava's.

A strange feeling twisted in the pit of Sherlock's stomach. "We've . . . been drugged."


	11. Drugged

This chapter begins the really M chapters. It is rated that way for a reason. Sherlock/John/Ava. If you don't like that sort of stuff, don't read it. For those of you who do continue, I would love to have your reviews – the good, the bad, and the ugly. This is my first attempt at a threesome, so here it goes. I don't own Sherlock. Wish I did.

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Ch 11 - Drugged

"We've been drugged."

The sound that came from Sherlock's lips next echoed the one Irene had put on her texts to him. Both Ava and John looked at him and then at each other.

"What sort of …" John began. But as he looked over to see Sherlock's thin body highlighted by the tightness of his purple shirt, he felt himself harden almost instantly. He moved his eyes over to Ava. The sight of the curvature of her breasts underneath the simple t-shirt wrung from his lips an "Ugh," which he tried to conceal.

"An aphrodisiac. Something to lower our self-control. A combination of both." Sherlock tried to focus his gaze on the pattern of the kitchen carpet but found his eyes betraying him. No matter how hard he tried, Sherlock kept finding eyes drawn toward the lines of John's jaw and Ava's neck. He spent so much time with them but never realized how beautiful they both were.

The men looked at each other and then to Ava. Fear and realization froze behind her eyes as she bolted from the table, ran to her bedroom, and locked herself behind the solid wood door.

"Ava." Sherlock started and rose to follow her.

"What?" John was having a hard time processing things as all he could think about was the way Sherlock's trousers hugged his hips. But when the detective moved to the door, the doctor was right behind him.

Sherlock staggered a little. John brought his hand to Sherlock's back for support. Sherlock gasped at the contact. The drug was making his skin super sensitive.

John tried the door knob. Nothing. Sherlock banged his fist on the wood.

"Ava! Please!"

"Just. . . just leave me alone. I'll be…fine."

"Ava, drugs like this can . . . damage. . . if you fight against it." Sherlock called. "Best to . . . let it take its course."

"No."

"Why?"

Ava was silent.

A very distracted John reached for Sherlock's top shirt button releasing it. A portion of Sherlock's pale skin was revealed distracting John. He tried to put his thought together. "Doesn't think she's. . . any good . . . told me that night."

"Which night?"

"The one . . . you climbed on top of her."

Sherlock closed his eyes. His mind palace hit hard at the memory.

John tried to reason with her. "Please. Ava. We need you. We can all get through this – but together."

"You have each other. You don't need me."

Sherlock chimed in, "But we do need you."

John called out to her. "Ava, I know you don't believe this . . . but we've never done this . . . with each other."

"I won't be . . . any help."

John continued, "What happened? Who . . . hurt you?"

"No one – not physically, anyway."

"_Ava_. _What happened!_" Sherlock's voice deepened dangerously at the thought of someone hurting his Avid.

There was a long pause. Then Ava's voice came through soft – almost a whisper. Sherlock and John had to strain to here the words. "The one man I've been with…said . . . said that being with me was like putting his dick in warm soup. I…I get too wet."

"Tell me his name . . . and I'll…" Sherlock growled.

John cut Sherlock off. "Ava, I really . . . don't think that . . . will be a problem in this instance."

"Ha. Hahahahaha." Ava's chuckle started softly then grew into a proper laugh. The men heard the lock of the door being unbolted then saw Ava being revealed behind it. The sight of her wrenched the hearts of both of them. She seemed much more fragile and delicate with her arms wrapped around herself making her appearance smaller. Even though she was laughing, tears visibly stained her face and neck.

Both detective and doctor moved toward her comforting her in the strength of their arms. For a moment, everything was calm and still. Slowly, Sherlock eased his grip on her and kissed her forehead. A little unmistakable gasp escaped her lips. Sherlock's breath hitched. He placed his hands on the sides of her face and leaned in to kiss her. At the last moment, Ava pulled back.

"We're cousins . . . remember?"

"Fifth cousins . . . besides . . . you're from the South . . . " He leaned in a bit closer. ". . . didn't think that would . . ." Sherlock's lips were just a breath away from Ava's. ". . . be a problem for you."

Ava laughed breathlessly. Her eyes transfixed on his remarkable lips. "And of course . . . there's no history . . . of marrying cousins . . . in the British culture . . ." Even drugged, her sarcasm shone through.

"Oh, for . . . God's sake . . . shut up!" John turned Ava's face to his and kissed her soundly. He tasted of coffee and the half eaten chocolate digestives he'd snacked on in the car. Bitter and sweet at the same time. A beautiful but realistic combination.

Ava whimpered in the back of her throat. John moaned into her mouth. When he released her, Ava barely caught her breath before it was Sherlock tasting her lips. She tasted of coffee and lingering apples – left over from her last juice. Sherlock tasted of coffee and nicotine. When had he had a chance to smoke?

When Ava and Sherlock broke apart, he noticed John's eyes on him. John had never looked as beautiful as he did now with a lump in his throat and fire in his eye. Watching them kiss had certainly had a reaction on the doctor.

It took Sherlock a moment to realize that the growl he was hearing was coming from his own chest. Before he knew it, he was kissing his doctor with a passion he didn't know he possessed. The shock lasted for a brief second before John was responding in kind to his detective.

When they stopped for breath, they looked cautiously in Ava's direction. She smiled at them. "Well, it's about damned time!" Then, she grabbed a hand from both Sherlock and John led them towards the bed.


	12. Leading

Sorry for the delay. This chapter is definitely rated M. It is rated that way for a reason. Sherlock/John/Ava. If you don't like that sort of stuff, don't read it. For those of you who do continue, I would love to have your reviews – the good, the bad, and the ugly. This is my first attempt at a threesome, so here it goes. I don't own Sherlock. Wish I did.

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Ch 12 – Leading

Leading Sherlock and John to the bed, Ava spun around sitting on the edge of it.

"Take off your shirts. Slowly." Ava's voice was calm and in charge. The glow in Sherlock's and John's eyes said they approved of it. Their actions followed suit as Sherlock finished the unbuttoning job that John had begun revealing his pale, silky Adonis chest contrasting beautifully behind the dark purple shirt. Sliding the soft and expensive material off his arms (the cotton was so fine it felt like satin), Sherlock gently laid it aside as he watched John rip the ribbed knit cardigan off his head and toss it to the corner of the room. John's slightly tanned and lightly hairy chest was a beautiful complement to Sherlock's.

"Are we a bit impatient, John? You'll have to wait your turn now." Ava's smile turned into a smirk at the corners of her mouth. She ran her left hand up and down the front of Sherlock's trousers feeling it lengthen as she went. Then something in her face clouded.

"I have to know. Sherlock, have you ever…?" Ava's voice slightly faltered. A quick look from John told her that she'd echoed his thoughts too.

"No." Sherlock gasped a little. "Never."

At that Ava's eyes closed and her hand stopped. "I'm sorry. . . I . . . can't."

"What? What's wrong?" Sherlock knelt down and refused to release Ava's gaze.

"I can't let your first time be _this!_ Not drugged. . . not. . . not of your own choice."

Sherlock shot his hand through her dark wavy hair and kissed her passionately before changing to a more tender tempo and then releasing her. The baritone of his voice was deeper than usual.

"I can think of no other people I'd rather do this with . . . I trust you both." Sherlock looked up at John. "I love you both."

John's heart skipped a beat. He had secretly hoped that this might happen one day, but he'd never dreamed it would be so soon. Sherlock said he loved him. He looked at Ava who still seemed a little uncertain. John knelt down and kissed her cheek whispering in her ear.

"You know I won't hurt him. We'll take care of him, Ava. Together."

She smiled back at him. "Ok then." The authority returned to her voice. "Men, as you were. Stand at attention."

Both detective and doctor grinned slightly and resumed their positions. Ava went back to feeling Sherlock through his tight fitting trousers. It didn't take long to have him aching and begging for release from his confinement. Ava tried to keep control, but her left hand fumbled with Sherlock's trousers awkwardly - her right hand useless in its cast. Besides, the ache at her center hit her harder than ever before. A sound of frustration erupted from the back of her throat.

"Damn my hand!"

She looked up to see John and Sherlock affected by the noise she'd made. Both bright blue and light grey coloured eyes narrowed in dilation.

"John. Help a girl out." She palmed Sherlock's straining erection through the fine dark material. "Do the honours."

John didn't need any other instruction. Gone was his hesitation and uncertainty. Gone was his nagging internal mantra 'I'm not gay!' All that mattered was helping to get Sherlock's erection free. John obeyed and undid the metal clasp and slowly lowered the zipper. John risked a glance at Sherlock. The heat in the detective's eyes undid him. He'd acquired a taste for his flatmate's exquisite lips already and leaned up to capture them again. Coffee. Nicotine. And…Sherlock. Ah. . . a surprisingly sweet and addictive combination.

While Sherlock was focused on finding a comfortable angle to their kiss that would allow him to tease John's mouth open with his tongue, the trousers fell to his ankles. Ava easily lowered his boxers with her left hand allowing the air to hit his penis. Oh,… foreskin … of course, she wasn't in the States anymore. Her only lover had been American . . . and disappointing. She'd had conversations with some of her girl friends on the subject. The majority of them had a dislike of the idea of being with an uncircumcised man. Luckily, she'd never been brought up to be puritanical about such things.

Sherlock's length was long and pale – like the rest of his body. And when Ava took him in her mouth in one long fluid movement, Sherlock gasped breaking away from John's lips. Never before had the detective felt anything so divine. To him, the body was just physical transport for the mind. He had no experience in how his body's _natural_ sensations could free him from his mind. Only drugs did this to him. Mind you, he was technically on drugs now. He wondered if this would feel the same when he was sober. He cataloged it in his mind: Must do this again when sober.

While John was disappointed at Sherlock breaking contact with his lips, he quickly understood why he had done it. He didn't know how much experience Ava had in that area, but he could see Sherlock appreciating her ardour at doing it. After a few moments of licking and sucking, Ava released him.

Sherlock looked down at her. The look of child-like disappointment on his face.

Ava smiled. "Time to return the favour, Sherlock."

He looked at her. His gaze clouded and a little confused. She raised her right hand displaying her cast.

"Get John out of his jeans."

Sherlock's eyes widened and his eyebrows arched. Of course.

His long elegant fingers reached out for the denim surrounding John's waist. They shook a little bit. In the darkest corner of his mind palace he had dreamed of doing this to John one day. With the drug still raging in his system, all the bars surrounding Sherlock's deepest desires lowered and they flooded to the surface.

Releasing the metal button and lowering the zipper, Sherlock's hand surged past the denim, past the cotton of John's pants to cup his balls. John let out an unbidden moan and used his hands to help both jeans and boxers fall to the floor.

Before Sherlock could really get a feel for him, he felt a sharp smack to the back of his hand. John gasped feeling the resonating effect of the slap though his balls. They both looked at Ava.

"Not yet. Right now you're both mine."

Ava lowered her lips to John's penis. He was just as much a mouthful as Sherlock had been. But where Sherlock had him slightly on length, John was thicker and tasted slightly saltier.

"Jesus!" Escaped from John's lips. His hips bucked and tip of his knob hit the back of Ava's throat. She fought for control and won as she used her tongue to increase the pressure on his cock.

As Ava built up a good rhythm, she didn't forget Sherlock. Her left hand enclosed him and his eyes fluttered closed from the feeling and from watching her pleasure John. A few moments later, John gently stopped Ava. She looked up at him - questions visable in her now dilated eyes.

John smiled at her and at Sherlock.

"Why are we the only ones naked?"


	13. Following

Thank you to everyone who is staying with this and especially to those who review. Reviews are what keep me going. I don't own Sherlock. Remember this is M with Sherlock/John/Ava. If you don't like this sort of fiction, don't read it.

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Ch 13 – Following

"Why are we the only ones naked?"

John leaned down - his hands reaching for the bottom of Ava's t-shirt. He carefully allowed her to get her cast out of it before impatiently tugging it off the rest of her body - her breasts moving freely from John's actions. Both Sherlock and John's breaths were lost for a moment as they took in the beauty of Ava who had been bra-less underneath her t-shirt.

"Really, guys? Don't be so shocked. How am I supposed to hook a bra up with my hand in a cast?"

John smirked a little at that. Even before being drugged, he had noticed that Ava's breasts moved a little differently underneath her cotton t-shirts since she had broken her hand. Now that he had them in full view he had to admit that they were beautiful. Slightly fuller than those of the girls he usually dated, but they had the firmness and lift of youth that allowed them to rise well without the additional support of a bra.

John crawled to the center of the bed and laid down on his side. Ava followed him sliding effortlessly on her back due to the softness of the cotton duvet. Capturing her lips with his and massaging her right breast with his left hand, John felt himself thicken. The moan Ava released into his kiss effected him even more.

The sight of John taking charge and Ava following was too much for Sherlock. He had to be a part of this. He had to help pleasure the two people he loved more than life itself. John's clever positioning allowed Sherlock to follow them both onto the bed. His delicate, graceful looking fingers betrayed the savagery building in him as fought with the button and zipper on her jeans. His large hands guided her to raise her lower body long enough for him to maneuver the denim past her hips, down her thighs, over her knees, and off her shins.

Sherlock threw the jeans with disdain over his shoulder not caring where they landed. Instead he focused on crawling back up Ava slowly. Planting kisses and bites starting at her ankles, Sherlock worked himself up her body. Reaching her knees, the consulting detective maneuvered between them making Ava open her thighs for him. He knelt down to inhale her scent.

"Oh, God!" escaped his lips. She was intoxicating. He felt his cock stiffen just from the olfactory stimulation. He rose back up and saw Ava's and John's reactions. Ava's smile turned up in a half smirk, but John's gaze was them most arrogant Sherlock had even seen him. Even in this drugged state, Sherlock read him in an instant. This was the arrogance of John's experience. John – who had so many girlfriends. John – who was used to taking control in the bedroom.

"It's ok, Locky." Ava panted running one hand through his curls.

"If it's too much for you . . . Sherlock . . . just . . . watch." John's voice ordered.

Oh, he couldn't have that. Couldn't have Ava's condescending attitude. Couldn't have John ordering him around. Couldn't have them being smug.

In one movement, Sherlock's finger slid past Ava's loose legged boy-short knickers and into her wetness. At the same time, Sherlock's mouth reached up and captured John's cock in his mouth. The sounds of pleasure that hit Sherlock's ears sent him reeling. But he was determined to show them that he could keep up with their pace as he worked both of Ava and John into a whimpering set of sighs and moans.

Finally, Sherlock released John's cock with a pop. Tasting John was beautiful, but now he wanted Ava. Replacing his finger with his tongue, Sherlock lapped up her juices and sent Ava screaming, "Sherlock!" as she rode out her first orgasm. As John watched the cousins dance, he finally knew what he really wanted. That amazing man had brought him to a puddle with just his mouth. That git had reduced all his experience to nothing with a lick of his tongue and the hollow of his cheeks. What John wanted more than anything right now was Sherlock Holmes.

He pulled Sherlock off Ava and kissed him fully. When they broke off, John smiled at him.

"Do you trust me?" Even though drugged, John's care for his curly headed misfit came first.

"Always." Sherlock's baritone reply made John's stomach quiver.

John worked a finger into Ava bringing out her juices. She was so wet from coming – just like she said she would be. And John was determined to use this to all their advantage.

"Turn over, Sherlock."

The detective obeyed his doctor. John used his fingers slicked with Ava's wetness to open up Sherlock. Who needed lube when you had Ava? Sherlock moaned through his tightness but slowly opened up for John. His John. His trusted doctor.

As John worked his fingers in and out, Sherlock felt the pressure in his cock intensify. He closed his eyes for a moment before feeling kisses on his face. Opening his eyes, he found Ava kissing him and sliding underneath him reaching for his cock.

"Let's find a home for that, shall we?"

And, with that she guided him inside her. It was too much too soon and he came with a bellow inside her. Once he recovered, he tried to remove himself from Ava's heat, but she refused to let him move.

John had stilled his fingers as Sherlock climaxed. But now that he was coming back down, the doctor's expert fingers began again. The sensations didn't stop and soon Sherlock found himself growing again inside Ava.

Ava touched her wetness and then placed more of herself on John's straining cock. He moaned and John's voice made Sherlock lengthen even more. When John could tell that Sherlock was ready, he positioned himself behind Sherlock slowly sliding himself into the beautiful man beneath him.

Sherlock stilled at the sensations of filling Ava and being filled by John at the same time. In a moment, all the windows in his mind palace shattered.

Then there was John, slowly moving in and out now. Building up pressure again. The sensation was amazing. But he felt he should do something for Ava, but she held his hips steady with pressure from her free hand.

"Not yet, Locky."

John's stamina was epic. But eventually the slow thrusts gave way to pounding Sherlock's delicate flesh. Only when the force of John shoved Sherlock further into Ava did she release his hip.

"Ugh…" Ava whimpered breathlessly.

That noise. That little expression drove both men wild.

"John…please…" Sherlock moaned.

It was too much, too good to have Sherlock begging for him. John came with a roar and emptied himself into Sherlock's alabaster body before finally disengaging himself and lying down, spent.

Now Sherlock still needed to finish off himself and Ava. His eyes locked onto hers as he finally moved of his own accord. She was beautiful. Her green eyes sparkled, her lips were full and blushed deep red. His gaze further traveled down her body – taking the image of her in fully for the first time.

Then he stopped. Something was wrong. Something was not as it should be. Even in the heat of sex, Sherlock's mind clicked something into place.

Suddenly his pace changed. He was no longer languid and gentle, but rough – bordering on brutal. Ava screeched his name and Sherlock gave a final thrust before locking his hips and spilling into her.

Coming down, all three of them clung to each other. But instead of drifting off to sleep as John and Ava were doing, Sherlock's eyes stayed open. Anyone seeing Sherlock's eyes would have said they ran between two extremes. Protectiveness for John. Wariness for Ava.


	14. Scars

I don't own Sherlock. I only own my original characters and my plot.

Thanks so much to the lovely people who choose to review. Reviews are always welcome – that's the only way we get better.

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Ch. 14 - Scars

John Watson was not new to this. In fact, he thought of himself as quite proficient. But last night was more intense than he had ever known. His climax had hit him hard and now sleep took him with just as much force. It was a sleep that rested his soul. A dreamless sleep where no fears lived.

Tomorrow he'd worry about the consequences of what they had done. Tomorrow he'd deal with the awkwardness of relating to Sherlock after finally acting on the feelings that had been building up inside him for so long. For now there was peace and silence and Sherlock's long alabaster arm and leg wrapped around him like a shield.

Perhaps that's why the what was to come was such a shock to his system. The gap between the present serenity and the chaos to follow was too big, too engulfing as John's slumber was eventually torn apart by screams.

His eyes flew open. Sherlock was still curled around him protectively, but Ava was nowhere to be seen. Both men's gazes flew to each other. Sherlock's eyes were red. Had he been crying? Had he slept at all? Another scream sounded as they both sprinted off the bed and back into their trousers.

Sherlock led the way as they followed the screams leading to Ava's back garden. There in the grass lay a man positioned in the form of a cross. Four little dogwood blooms lay at the head, feet, and at either arm.

Ava, now in a pair of dark sweatpants and t-shirt, stood in disbelief holding onto an old wooden bench for support. John immediately went to her side - easing her into sitting on the bench. Sherlock ignored Ava instead quickly crouching down to the body.

Sherlock turned his head toward Ava. "Do you know him?" He demanded.

Ava nodded – not trusting her voice to speak. Finally she whispered, "My contact – the scientist – Clive Dwyer."

"Really?" Sherlock released in a low breath. "John, call the police."

"Already doing it."

Sherlock stepped away from the body. Ava braved standing up to talk to him.

"Why would anyone leave him here? Is it a message? Am . . . am I next?"

"Probably."

"Sherlock!" John gave him a glowering look as he guided her back to the bench. She looked pale and fragile from the shock of finding the dead man in her home and the significance that her life was truly in danger. The detective ignored their movements as he proceeded to text.

When the police finally arrived after what seemed like an eternity, one of them went straight up to Sherlock.

"Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes."

"DI Breck. Lestrade's spoken to me. Are you sure?"

"Of course." Sherlock's disdain for the DI's unsurity was evident.

"Very well. But, I'm relying on you."

Breck turned around walking over to Ava.

"Ava Greer..."

"Not her real name." Sherlock hissed through his teeth.

"It'll have to do for now." The DI shot back. "Ava Greer, I am arresting your for the murders of Clive Dwyer and Marcus Woodard."

"What!" John and Ava said in unison. John stood up and stepped in front of Ava protectively.

Sherlock strode over to them. "You. Are. Not. Ava. You can't be. Tell me, what was the thing that finally separated us when we were children?"

Ava quietly stood up – a look of disbelief and shock in her eyes – but stayed silent.

"Not cooperating? Or perhaps you don't know? Let me tell you then. Ava's fall. Ava fell from a tree trying to prove herself to me. A limb on the ground pierced one side of her shoulder going straight through the other side. But you. You have no scars. Something as traumatic as that would have left scars. So you, my dear manipulative American, are not my cousin. In fact, you are probably responsible for drugging us last night. Whatever game you are playing with me is going to stop. Now, what .. is .. going .. on?"

Ava drew herself up taller almost in defiance but remained silent.

"Tell me!" Sherlock screamed down at her. "No one manipulates me through someone I love and gets away with it. No one takes advantage of the ones I love . . ." He looked at John and couldn't finish his words. Sherlock was so worked up that he raised his hand to her.

But Ava didn't flinch. She didn't even blink. She stood there ready to take Sherlock's violence if he released it on her with stoic determination. John, on the other hand, placed himself between them.

"_No._ Sherlock. Not that."

Sherlock shook his head a little as if clearing his vision. Suddenly, he quieted and turned around.

With Sherlock's threat gone, John turned her. "Ava? Tell Sherlock he's wrong. Because he is wrong. Isn't he?"

Ava reached out and placed a hand on John's arm. She leaned in as if to whisper something in his ear.

John stood dazed as Ava allowed herself be handcuffed and led away.

* * *

Standing outside Ava's house after all the police were gone and it was locked up, Sherlock and John finally started dancing around the events of last night.

"So. We were drugged. She drugged us."

"Yes."

"And, she's not Ava? She's not your cousin?"

"No. You saw her shoulder last night."

"Among other things."

"No scarring at all. What would it take to erase two scars like that completely?"

"Surgeries. Loads of them. Painful process." John thought to the scars on his own shoulder. He hated them but shuddered to think how many surgeries would be necessary to get rid of them.

"Exactly! So she can't be Ava."

John inhaled deeply before throwing a sideways glance at Sherlock. "So. Last night...you . . . regret last night?"

"Of course."

John's exhale was sharp and sounded almost painful. "Right." He turned his head to look straight ahead away from Sherlock. "It didn't happen. We won't talk about it. We'll just go on as before."

Sherlock stood silent. His gaze not really focused on anything.

"Ok." John continued, "I understand if you can't go back. I'll just catch the next train back to London. I'll . . . be out of the flat before you get home."

John turned away from Sherlock and started walking away. Sherlock simply stood there.

Five minutes later, Sherlock shook his head and looked around. He had gone into one of his little blank episodes. Where was John? The Landrover was still there so he must not be too far. Then his mind started filtering some of the thing John had said. "Can't go back . . . train . . . out of flat . . ."

Was John leaving him? Had he given John a reason to leave him? All he knew was the finality that last night had shown to him – that he couldn't live in this world without John Watson.

"Oh, John."

If John had been there and heard the way the words had escaped Sherlock's lips, he would have pulled the detective to him and held him close. As it was, no one heard Sherlock's words, and John was already on a bus taking him to the Stafford bus station.


	15. Stations

If I hadn't made it clear already, this is set post-Baskerville / pre-Reichenbach. I own nothing but my original characters and plot. Thanks for everyone who is reading and posting comments. They help me so much!

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Ch 15 - Stations

John rode the bus into Stafford in a daze. His mind was so full of what had happened to Ava that it took him time to filter information of how Sherlock had been since last night.

Sherlock's eyes had been red when he woke up. From lack of sleep? From crying? Had John actually hurt him during sex? He had tried to be thoughtful and gentle but maybe he had hurt him? Sherlock had trusted him and all John had done in return was hurt him. John felt his heart constrict at the idea.

Maybe Sherlock had only really wanted Ava? Maybe Sherlock's passion was truly drug induced? Maybe with both those factors absent, Sherlock's only response could be to close up again?

This thought also tightened John's chest. After finally seeing the beauty of a physically demonstrative, passionate Sherlock, John knew that his heart would break if he never saw that again.

Finally reaching the train station, John stepped off the bus and pushed the button on the traffic light waiting so that he could cross the street to it. He wiped away the hint of moisture coming from his eye. He was determined to wait till he got to Baker Street before he would allow himself to break down. But no matter what he tried, John's mind kept coming back to the fact that Sherlock had regretted being with him. With that thought, the moisture kept coming to his eyes.

* * *

Sherlock lost time in fighting with the Landrover's Satnav. But he'd rather get it right than be bumbling though traffic not knowing where to go. Once it was programed, he flew up the A34 into Stafford. He had to catch John before he boarded a train. If Sherlock did, then maybe he could minimize whatever damage he'd done. If John didn't want to be lovers (and that thought hurt Sherlock more that he realized), maybe they could just be friends again. But if John beat him to the train, then John would have the whole trip back to London to think of more reasons to leave him.

No. He had to catch John before he reached the station. That meant ignoring every time a yellow speed camera box became visible. He rarely drove anyway. If he earned enough points to suspend his license but got John back, it would be worth it. As he drove, Sherlock raked his mind trying to figure out what he had said to make John go away. He drew a blank. Maybe it was how he had said something?

Finding a parking place was more difficult than the journey itself had been, but finally Sherlock parked the Landrover and ran to the station. He didn't know how long he'd been in his daze. For a few minutes? An hour? It was possible that John was already heading towards London. That thought put pressure on his chest.

Sherlock scanned the people milling around the outside of the station. No sign of John. Running inside, he weaved in and out of the ques of people waiting to buy tickets. Still no John. His eyes searched the boards for the next train to Waterloo. It was set to pull out in 5 minutes. Sherlock ran up the stairs, along the main corridor, and then down to the next platform.

And, then he saw him. John sitting on a bench, back straight and looking forward not turning to the right or the left. He knew that posture. He knew that meant that John was hurting.

"John!"

The doctor looked up at the sound of his name and saw the curly headed detective striding toward him with a purpose. The sight took his breath away. Sherlock's progress stopped about two feet from where John sat. John's eyes were red.

John stood up shoulders straight and chin held high as if that could protect him from anymore hurt Sherlock could heap upon him.

Sherlock tried to make a catalog of reasons to give to John for staying. He tried to make them air tight in their logic. But fear was winning the war in his mind right now - not logic. Suddenly, Sherlock remembered a word John had used right before he'd blanked out.

John, however, was getting impatient. "What, Sherlock?"

"I...I don't regret _us_. I regret that Ava was the one who brought us together and made me see the truth. And even if you still decide to get on that train and I never get to see you again, you need to know that I don't regret last night. I'd never regret _you_."

John let out a sharp gasp. Was this real? Was Sherlock saying what he thought he was saying?

"I need you to say it. I mean, really say it, Sherlock. What do you want from me?"

"I want whatever you can give me."

John cocked his head a little taken aback. This was not Sherlock being a sociopath. So what was it?

John stepped up closer to Sherlock.

"No. Really. What. Do. You. Want?"

The words came tumbling from Sherlock's lips before he could catch them. "I...I want more nights like last night (without drug involvement). I want to taste you again. I want you to need me just as badly as I need you."

John's head went down and his hand reached for Sherlock's and squeezed it tightly. Sherlock stood in fear of what his answer would be.

After what seemed like an age, John looked up with his eyes visibly wet.

"You daft bugger. I've always needed you." With that, John reached up and caressed Sherlock's face. Right now, in public, that was all he was comfortable with doing.

"Let's find somewhere to stay tonight." John grinned.

"Ok." Sherlock said a little unsure. He still didn't quite understand John's position on things.

"With a double bed, this time, Sherlock."

"Ok." John's words took a second to register their meaning with Sherlock. "Oh!" Sherlock's face widened in a huge grin. "A double!"

Sherlock didn't release John's hand put pulled his doctor with him as he took the station stairs two at a time.

* * *

In the holding cell, Ava sat with her back against the wall. She didn't try to hide. She didn't try to avoid the other women in the cell with her – even the bully. Ava's right hand may be broken but she had easily made an impression on the other women in the cell by sweeping the bully's feet out from under her and elbowing her in the chest. After that, no one else bothered her.

She sighed – more than a little disgusted with herself. Why had she frozen when Sherlock confronted her? Why had she let him continue with his delusions about her identity? Was she still so traumatized by it all that had happened to her that she could not talk about it? Apparently, yes.

They had been playing pirates. Sherlock had quickly climbed a tree in the back garden wooden sword in hand, and Ava had followed. She had to prove to him that she was just as good him at whatever he did. She kept up quite well. In fact, she was fine until Mycroft had told them to come in for tea. When he yelled at her, Ava's concentration had broken, and she had fallen. Chance just happened to leave a long sharp branch on the ground sticking up so it would slice through her shoulder.

After a trip to A&E, Ava's mother took her back to the States. No more summers in England. No more summers with Sherlock. The best part of Ava's year was taken away in a flash.

Then there were the surgeries. Ava hadn't asked for them. She hadn't wanted them. But, Ava's mother insisted she have them until all the scarring was gone. Even as she grew up and her body changed, Ava's mother insisted on the surgeries. Her mother had had some deranged idea that Ava would do beauty pageants – just like she had done when she was a teenager. However, Ava rebelled completely – always slightly chubby and ending up the valedictorian of her high school class, the lessons Sherlock had taught her about learning and discovery never left her.

The next morning, Ava woke up from dozing in the corner of the cell. Her neck was stiff. Her mind was groggy from not enough sleep.

Then a police woman came to the cell door.

"Ava Greer, step up."

Ava looked up and complied silently walking to the cell door.

"Hands through the cell door."

Again, Ava complied, but this time she ventured a question. "What's going on?"

"You must have friends in high places." The officer placed cuffs on her. "This is just till we clear the cell block."

Ava just looked at the officer questioningly.

"Somebody's posted your bail."

Ava's heart leaped. "Mycroft!" She whispered to herself. Yes, he had been a right git in the past, but he had gone out of his way to help her since she came back. Mind you, she was doing him a favour at the same time.

The officer led her to the front desk of the station and had her sign a mountain of paperwork. She was allowed her personal belongings back but was told that as part of her bail that she was not to leave Staffordshire much less the UK.

She didn't see Mycroft in the station, but she really wasn't too surprised at that. She walked into the sunlight and saw a black Mercedes-Benz S 350 waiting for her. Mycroft's car.

She opened the door and slid into the back seat. "Thank you, Mycroft. I know you're probably mad, but I can explain." Then she turned to the man in the seat next to her. He was busy with his head down texting on his phone.

Hold on. Mycroft didn't text.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, my dear. Mycroft's busy with a little problem I've sent him. Let me introduce myself: Jim Moriarty. High!"

Of course she knew who he was, Mycroft had explained who Moriarty was before she started staying with Sherlock. Before she could react and open the door to run out, all the locks in the car clicked shut. Ava looked over at the psychopath seated next to her, he was holding a syringe menacingly.

"Now, now. We can do this the hard way or the easy way. It doesn't really matter to me. Now, that's a lie, really. I'd much prefer the hard way."


	16. Barriers

A special thanks to all my reviewers. Love to you all. Sorry that this chapter is a little late, but I've been working on a couple of chapters at the same time. Hopefully, I can get the next couple in fairly quickly. As always, I don't own Sherlock.

* * *

Ch 16 - Barriers

John and Sherlock curled around each other as the daylight tried to come in through the shades of the windows of the Laughing Fox Inn. On the other side of Stafford, Ava was just walking into the car she thought was Mycroft's. Both men were just as groggy as Ava was, but for a completely different reason.

Last night, the tenderness and passion had found a balance between the movement of their two bodies. Sherlock had opened up more to John than he ever had to anyone else, and John felt more protective of his curly headed misfit than ever before. Sherlock had let all his barriers down, and now John was determined to guard Sherlock with all the powers of his body, mind, and soul.

Waking, John gently wiped the hair out of Sherlock face. It was endearing to see Sherlock this content, this vulnerable. Still, for all his happiness, John felt uncomfortable with how things had ended with Ava. He sighed a little to himself.

"John. Stop." Sherlock's words made John jump a little. He didn't even realize Sherlock was awake.

"What?" John continued to play with Sherlock's hair but didn't look him in the eyes.

"You were thinking it again."

Damn. He should have known that Sherlock would catch that. He caught every little action and reaction of John's – especially in bed.

"Nothing's wrong." John lied.

Sherlock opened his eyes and made a point of catching his doctor's gaze. "John. She was a murder, a liar, and a fraud. What else was I supposed to do?"

"But you find the fraud part the most disturbing though." John's words were a statement not a question.

"Of course I do. Her little 'deductions' of the first murder make a laughing stock out of what I do. If anyone could do that," Sherlock paused, "I'd just be ordinary."

"I have to disagree on that one." John smiled and pulled Sherlock toward him for a kiss. Soft and full of emotion, both men sighed and felt a resurgence of heat in their groins.

As they broke apart, Sherlock continued the conversation without missing a beat. "No one can deduce like that."

"You can." John smiled lovingly at his detective.

Sherlock laughed a little smugly. "Well, that's true." Then a little wicked grin showed on his face. "Now, let's see how well I can deduce what you want by you saying nothing at all?"

Sherlock leaned in nipping at John's throat. The blond man moaned underneath him.

Even if Ava were all those things - a murder, a lair, and a fraud - John still had a lot to thank her for.

* * *

Ava's mind was a blur. As it took an age to clear, there was pain. She took stock of her situation. Lying on her side on a bed. Arms pulled above her head. Her left wrist scraping against the cast on her right hand. Secured by a tight length of rope to the frame. She turned her eye down her body and breathed a little sigh of relief. At least she still had her clothes. Twisting her hands one way and then another, Ava let out a frustrated sound. Her bindings were too substantial for her to get through.

Thoughts flooded her mind. It wasn't supposed to end this way. Mycroft had promised to protect her. She had even made somewhat of a small breakthrough for him, but Mycroft didn't even know about that yet. Then there was Sherlock. Sherlock was supposed to …

"He's not coming for you, my dear." Moriarty stood at the foot of the bed and spoke as if reading her thoughts. "He doesn't even know I have you yet. In fact, he's not even looking for you. He and John are still shacked up in Stafford, which of course is not where we are if you were wondering." Jim sighed for a moment before continuing, "Anyway, the genius still thinks you are a fraud. That must hurt a little."

"'_Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gire and gimble in the wabe_,'" Ava quoted _The Jabberwocky _and worked hard to bring her mental barriers up.

The psychopath grinned. "Oh, that is refreshing. No – 'Where am I? Why am I here? What are you going to do to me?' Don't you want to know what I plan to do to you, my Ava?"

"'_All mimsy were the borogroves, and the mome raths outgrabe_.'" Ava continued and closed her eyes trying to block Jim out.

He quickly moved to the head of the bed, bent down, and covered her mouth with a kiss trying to prove to her that she couldn't simply ignore him. When he released her, biting her bottom lip before standing up, he exhaled appreciatively. Her eyes were still shut. Her breathing was still even. Jim could smell fear in people. He was good at it, and it was a skill that he prided himself in. But, he couldn't sense any fear in the bound woman before him.

"You might end up being just as entertaining as your cousin. Let's see how long you can keep that calm facade up shall we?" Moriarty took out sharp knife and held it up to her face before using it to rip Ava's t-shirt off her. Then the psychopath took a old, worn leather strap in his hand. He leaned down again. His breath was hot on her face.

"You see, I'm going to break you and film it so that Sherlock can see just how much he's lost by being vain."

Ava's eyes flew open. A spark of fear finally surged in front of her eyes. She scanned the room, searching for the camera. Once she spotted it, she looked directly into it.

"Already forgiven, Sherlock. It's not your fault. You're already forgiven. Whatever happens ..."

Moriarty's arm cracked the strap down on her back with a force that belied his slim frame.

She inhaled sharply but did not yell out. Instead, she only slightly grimaced, "Not ... your … fault."

"Oh, _very_ promising, my dear."


	17. Gibberish

Thanks to everyone who is adding this to favourites and alerts – and of course to the lovely reviewers. Please keep them coming. I don't own Sherlock – only my original characters and plot.

* * *

Ch 17 - Gibberish

Although Sherlock was quite happy to spend the rest of the day in bed, John was determined to make Sherlock eat something.

"We're going."

"Don't want to go. Just want you." Sherlock nuzzled in closer to his blond doctor.

"It's not going to work this time, Sherlock."

"Why not? It worked the other three times." Sherlock grinned mischievously.

"Well, it's no good this time." John stood up from the bed. "I'm getting a shower. Then you'll get a shower, then we'll go out and eat."

Quickly jumping up as well seeing the possibilities that could be ahead of him, "I could join you."

"And then we'd never leave."

Sherlock tilted his head and gave a lopsided grin. "That's what I was hoping for."

When they finally emerged from the pub, they found a restaurant in the town square. In fact, it was in the Shire Hall itself. The little cafe was on the second and third floors. John and Sherlock found a table that overlooked the gallery below which doubled as a display area local artists and an art shop.

Just as Sherlock was poring tea from the pot with his usual fluid grace, the main doors below opened and a very livid looking Mycroft surged in carrying a thick envelope. This was not the calm Mycroft strolling along umbrella in hand. This was not smug Mycroft trying to bully John into spying on Sherlock for him. This was a Mycroft that John had never seen before.

"How could you, Sherlock? She's our cousin."

"No she's not."

"Pardon?"

"She's not Avid. You, older brother, have been fooled."

"Explain your _brilliant_ deductions to me, younger brother." Mycroft's sarcasm was biting.

"No scars. Avid would have major scaring on both sides of her shoulder or have had lots of surgeries to get rid of the scarring."

"Which she did."

"Did what?"

"She had both."

"Ridiculous. No sane person would go through that. The real Ava was too sensible for that."

"Do you remember Ava's mother?"

"No."

"Sanity was not one of her strong points."

Mycroft proceeded to open the envelope taking out a series of pictures. All of the girl that would grow up to be the woman they knew as Ava. All focusing on the scars on her shoulder and dated 'pre-surgery' and 'post-surgery'.

"Her mother made her go through all these surgeries. The girl didn't ask for them – didn't want them."

"But why didn't Ava say anything back at her house? Why didn't she explain?"

"Well, don't you think after the that experience – so many surgeries and so much pain – that Ava might be more than a little traumatized by the whole affair?"

Finally John popped in – ever the voice of reason, "Surely this is a quick fix though. We can just go and explain that Sherlock was wrong and bail Ava out."

The elder Holmes turned to the doctor. "That would be the next logical step apart from one thing."

"What's that?"

"Early this morning, Ava was bailed out and got into this car." Mycroft produced another picture of Ava stepping into a black Merc.

John paused. "That looks exactly like your car."

Sherlock shot him a questioning look.

"I should know. The number of times I've gotten in it."

"Quite." Was all Mycroft could say.

"But, it wasn't your car."

"No."

"So, whose car is it?"

"Moriarty's. He knows what she's working on. More importantly, he knows who she is and who will be hurt if he hurts her."

Sherlock shot up almost turning over the entire table with his sudden movements.

"What clues do you have? Let me see all the CCTV footage from the time he took her."

"Well, it's good to see you have an interest again. But I have to warn you, brother. It's bad."

"He hasn't already ..." Sherlock's stomach hit the bottom of his belly. It would be all his fault if Ava died from this.

"No. Quick and easy is not his style. No. I'm afraid the bastard's given us a live feed."

* * *

_It had started with a game of hide and seek and ended up as a wrestling match in the large pantry that also held the Holmes' servants' cleaning supplies. _

"_You're captured and know you're going to be tortured, Avid." the teenage Sherlock had gotten the upper hand on his smaller and younger cousin pinning her to the floor. "What do you do now?"_

"_Quote gibberish – preferably poetry." She continued to struggle even though Sherlock was almost double her height. _

"_Why?"_

"_Uneducated ones won't know what you're talkin' about and educated ones will think you're usin' a mental device to help stand the torture." For all she tried to fit in while she was in England during the summers, her Southern accent still shown through. _

"_Which you are. But how do you turn it? How do you use it to you're advantage?"_

_Ava twisted her arms trying to get out of his grasp, but Sherlock wouldn't budge. Ava recited Sherlock's teachings almost verbatim. "If being filmed for evidence of being ransomed, turn the nonsense into a clue."_

"_What would you use in this instance?"_

"_Oh, come on, Locky. Let me up."_

"_Not till you think of a clue. You always have to be thinking – especially under stress."_

_Ava's patience was wearing thin – even for Sherlock. She looked around the pantry with all it's brushes and mops. _

"_Oh, alright! ' If seven maids with seven mops swept it for half a year, do you suppose,' the Walrus said, 'that they could get it clear'?"_

_Sherlock eased away from Ava, impressed. "Very good, Avid. Very . . ."_

_Before he could finish, Ava whacked her cousin upside the head and ran out of the pantry and down the hallway._

* * *

Ava grinned a little bit at that memory. Ah, the good ole days when she got to visit Sherlock, and they ran free from parents and school and Mycroft. Then she had fallen and everything had changed. Sherlock had been her solace – her friend – the only one who really accepted her for who she was. To everyone else she was a strange little geek in a Southern girl's body. Back home girls fell into two categories – the princess and the tomboy. Ava was neither. Ava was the geek.

But Sherlock didn't seem to notice that she was a freak. Sherlock never referenced that she should be any different from how she was. That simple act insured Ava's childhood adoration and unconditional love. He planned their lessons carefully, and Ava absorbed all his knowledge with a mind that started to mirror his own.

Now, for the first time, Ava thanked the fact that she had fallen. If she hadn't fallen then she wouldn't have been injured. No injury would have meant no scars. No scars would have meant no surgeries. No surgeries would have meant not learning how to deal with physical pain. She didn't think that she would be handling Jim's lashes to her back so easily if she hadn't built up a tolerance for pain.

The tolerance allowed the rest of her senses to seek out as much data as it could. She tried to categorize her senses. Touch – too overwhelmed with lashes to process. Visual – she looked around the room, but could not detect anything unusual. Hearing – all she could hear was Jim's breathing as he became more erratic in his thrashing of her. Taste – irrelevant at this time. Smell – ah, there was something lingering in the air. Something that was familiar. Something earthy. Ava tried to work her way back to naming that scent.

Pigs – that was it. Not just ordinary pigs. There were plenty of hog farms around where she had grown up, but this was not the scent she remembered from them. No. This was special. This was . . . Tamworth. Tamworth pigs. She remembered now. As a child, her father had taken her to Land Between the Lakes park which straddles the boundary between Kentucky and Tennessee. There had been Tamworth pigs there – descendants of Tamworths brought over from England hundreds of years ago. That was the scent that filled her nose now.

Remembering Sherlock's teaching from her youth, Ava started reciting Lewis Carroll again. Moriarty ignored her as he kept bringing down the strap in a steady rhythm. Eventually she glanced at the camera for a split second before coming to the line, "_ 'The time has come,' the Walrus said, 'to talk of many things: of shoes – and ships – and sealing wax – of cabbages - and kings – and why the sea is boiling hot – and whether pigs have wings.' "_

It was a long shot, she knew, but it was the only hope she had.


	18. Falling

Thanks to all the favouriters, allerters, and especially the reviewers. I don't own Sherlock, only my plot and original characters. Love you all.

* * *

Ch 18 - Falling

* * *

Falling.

Ava was falling. The pain steadily assaulted her until all she had to hang onto was the pain itself. It broke her down, and all that was left in Ava's place was a blank numbness. She couldn't think anymore. Thinking was something that whole people did. Trying to be clever only worked when she had a whole mind to work with. But, after Jim's beatings, even that was breaking down. Her lifestyle had been one of body and mind working in harmony. Although, Sherlock had taught her techniques to protect her mind, now that her body was being destroyed, her mind wouldn't be too far along.

When Jim finally stopped, he knew she wouldn't put up a fight so he cut her bonds from the head of the bed. And Ava made no attempt to get away. She lay helpless as Jim looked down at her with contempt. So predictable. He turned around and found his gun before rolling Ava towards him. She at least deserved to see the bullet that would kill her. Just as he raised it to put the pathetic creature out of her misery, he stopped himself. He looked at her closely and double checked before he would believe it to be true.

Ava lay with a grin on her face.

He grabbed a chair angrily and sat down in front of Ava pulling her face closer to him.

"Explain!"

Jim had a dozen replies going on in his head. 'Just wait till Sherlock gets you', 'One day I'll kill you myself', and 'You'll never break my spirit', were three of the responses he expected Ava to say. To the consulting criminal's surprise, Ava breathed, "It will scar."

"Of course. If I let you live, that is." Failing to hide his disdain for her stating the obvious. Now would come the threats.

Instead all that came from her lips was "Good."

Now, Jim was truly shocked. Had he missed something? "Why? Why is that good?"

"I'll get to keep 'em this time." Ava breathed before she passed out completely.

Now, this was an interesting turn. He had been planning to kill her just as soon as he was finished beating her, but now, maybe she could be entertaining a little while longer.

* * *

Mycroft took John and Sherlock away from Stafford city centre in his own black Merc and had them driven only a short distance to the RAF base. After passing through security, Mycroft directed them to a small building set off from the others. Once inside, they saw a series of computer screens and a variety of the people manning them.

"The CCTV footage is not a problem while in Stafford. We have plenty of that. We even have the license plate number." Mycroft began.

Sherlock paced the room and darted in between the people to look at the screens. He said nothing as he was still too enraged to speak properly.

"What is the problem then?" John offered.

"The problem is that we have four identical Mercs with four identical plates going off in four different directions. And..."

"And what?" Sherlock spoke up for the first time since the cafe.

"All the cars have disappeared off our radar. We have no exact location on any of them. And, Ava doesn't have the time for us to make a mistake."

"What were their last locations?"

"Last sightings were in Crewe, Ashbourne, Wrekin, and Tamworth. But, there's no way to know which car she was in."

"You said Moriarty's given you a live feed. Show it to me . . . show me the footage . . . from the beginning."

"Sherlock, I don't know if that's a good idea."

"From the beginning, Mycroft! Remember this is Ava. She might have been able to give us a clue."

"But I've already looked at it."

"I know her better."

"Of course you do. You know her so well that you called her an imposter and had her arrested by the police for two murders she obviously didn't do."

Sherlock started to ball up his fist. John jumped in between the brothers.

"Boys. This is not helping Ava. In fact, we're wasting time you said we didn't have." John glared at Mycroft. "Show us the footage."

Mycroft deflated a little. "Give me a moment to prepare a room." With that he left John and Sherlock alone.

John shook his head. Moisture coming to his eyes. "I should have known. I should have seen it."

"Seen it? Seen what?"

"The kiss."

"What kiss?"

"Before the police took Ava away, she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek."

"Wait. You're saying she didn't say anything. Didn't plead her case, didn't try show her innocence, didn't beg for mercy?"

"No. None of that. Just a kiss. Well, not just any kiss now that I think about it."

"Well?"

"It was an 'I forgive you' kiss."

Sherlock ran his hands in his hair with frustration. "It's not your fault, John. It's mine. If I hadn't been so ready to believe she was a fraud, this wouldn't have happened."

"We can still fix this though. We can still save her."

Sherlock nodded at John's words before turning to see Mycroft reenter the room.

"Sherlock, John, come this way." Mycroft ushered them into a smaller room. John wondered at the privacy he'd secured. Obviously, everyone on the team Mycroft had assembled had seen the footage already.

As Sherlock watched the video, his anger at Moriarty turned to hope as Ava started quoting _The Jabberwocky_.

"She remembers."

"What, Sherlock?"

"Ava's remembered what I taught her about being captured and tortured. Start with gibberish then turn it to a clue."

"Hang on. When did you teach her this?"

"When we were children."

"Right." Only Sherlock, John thought to himself.

* * *

When Jim talked about his vanity, Sherlock bowed his head. It was all his fault and even Ava's desperate words to the contrary couldn't change that. As Sherlock watched the man he hated most in all the world, strike the woman who he held closest in his heart, he felt his stomach falling and he broke down in tears.

Now, John knew why Mycroft had given them privacy. As always, he was trying to protect his little brother.

But as much as he wanted to look away, Sherlock kept watching. Ava was smart. She was clever. She would find someway to give them a clue.

As she looked at the camera and then recited the line about the pigs, Sherlock dared to hope again.

He ran out of the room and yelled for Mycroft.

"Turn your focus to Tamworth. Find that black Merc and do it now. Give us a car and send backup. We're heading down there now. When you find its location, send it to my phone."

"How do you know she's in Tamworth?"

"My clever, clever Ava. She looked at the camera before saying that line."

"Which line?"

" _'O__f shoes – and ships – and sealing wax – of cabbages - and kings – and why the sea is boiling hot – and whether pigs have wings.'_ Tamworth is famous for its pigs. That's where she is."

"Are you sure?"

"That's where she is, Mycroft." Sherlock glared at his brother with all the intensity in his being.

Mycroft looked at him and understood instantly. "Take my car."


	19. Burning

Many thanks to the readers, followers, and reviewers. I love hearing your input and it is always appreciated. Love to you all. As always, I don't own Sherlock – just my plot and original characters.

* * *

Ch 19 - Burning

* * *

Sherlock drove Mycroft's black Merc with grim determination back down the M6 Toll. John silently thanked the fact that was there as it took them closer to Tamworth without having to get off on the local roads.

Though he focused on maneuvering through the traffic, John could see that Sherlock was desperately on edge. The longer he drove, the more erratic his driving was. All the 'rules' of the road were forgotten as Sherlock overtook cars and lorries regardless of which lane they were in.

"_Sherlock_," John's worried voice entreated.

The consulting detective ignored John as he sped past an arrogant BMW hogging the fast lane. A white van suddenly wanted to be in the center lane too. Sherlock quickly swerved in front of the BMW in order to avoid both vehicles barely missing both car and van with only inches to spare.

"Sherlock!"

The raven haired man looked over at John.

"Sherlock, we can't be any use to Ava if we're dead."

"We've got to find her, John. I've lost her once, and it was my fault. I can't lose her again. If Moriarty escapes with her, we might never find them again."

John placed his hand reassuringly on Sherlock's left arm. "We will find them. Ava will be safe. And, then we'll lock that madman away for a long time."

Sherlock nodded but pressed his right foot further down on the accelerator like it was made of concrete.

Sherlock's phone rang and he handed it to John. It was Mycroft.

"Mycroft? Ok. Hold on. I'm putting you on speaker phone."

"Have you exited the Toll Road yet?" Mycroft's intense voice sounded.

"Just doing it now" Sherlock replied. "What's wrong?"

"Take the A38."

"But that doesn't go to Tamworth!" Sherlock spat.

"Just do it, Sherlock!" Mycroft ordered.

This was one of the few times since their youth that Sherlock listened to his elder brother. He chose the A38 exit off the roundabout and turned the car south instead of keeping it going east.

"Done it. Now, explain, Mycroft."

"We've been focusing our search around the Tamworth area as you instructed. Twenty minutes ago, the live video feed was severed. Now, we've got CCTV footage of Ava being carried to the same car that picked her up this morning. That car is speeding out of Tamworth on the A453. If you're lucky, you can catch them before they get into the Birmingham traffic. Police are in pursuit as well."

"Thanks, Mycroft."

* * *

When they caught up to the Merc, the police were already positioned to try to force the car to stop. Police cars surrounded it from the front, sides, and rear attempting to slow down at the same time in order to capture it.

As the Merc began to reduce speed, a thought gnawed at the back of Sherlock's stomach.

"Something's wrong, John."

"What? They're stopping. That's a good thing."

"Too easy. He'd never give up this easily."

Just as that last sentence left Sherlock's lips, the Merc pinned down by the police exploded in a ball of fire taking all four cars with it.

Sherlock immediately pulled his car up short frantically releasing himself from his seat belt and grabbing the door handle.

Ava. Ava was in that car. In that explosion. He had to reach her. Had to get her out. Had to save her.

But as he started running toward the fireball in front of him black coat billowing in the wind from the blast, he was tackled from the side by the blond headed blur he knew to be John.

"Get off! She could still be alive. John!"

"Nothing could survive that, love. I'm sorry."

Sherlock struggled but John's stockiness held a strength that kept the taller man in check.

"Let me go!"

"No! I can't lose you. I can't lose you both."

At that Sherlock's body went limp and stopped fighting him, John eased his grip slightly and turned Sherlock to face him.

Sherlock focused on John's eyes. There were tears in them. John's eyes – that saw so much and said so much with a simple look. John had loved Ava too.

John had learned in the time he'd known the consulting detective that Sherlock did everything in extremes. People were wrong about Sherlock. They thought that he didn't feel. That he was a sociopath. He wasn't. It was simply that his emotions were so extreme that he couldn't handle them on a regular basis. So, he'd built up walls to protect himself from the intensity of them.

Now John could see the emotions burning in Sherlock's face. The doctor pulled the taller man to him doing his best to comfort the torrent of feelings flooding forth from Sherlock. Raven curls leaned into John resting on the doctor's shoulders. Sherlock simply sobbed. The sound of utter despair and loss broke John's heart.

Jim had said he'd burn the heart out of Sherlock. Right now, he was doing a damn good job of it.

* * *

In the back of a black Merc heading up the M42 and eventually the M1, Jim Moriarty smiled. He smiled at the sight of Ava weakened and beaten in the seat beside him. He smiled at the destruction of the four police cars in the explosion. But he smiled the most at the pictures being sent to him of a broken Sherlock being held in the doctor's arms.

Ava's eyes fluttered open. Jim noticed. He reached out to brush the hair from her eyes as he showed her the picture.

"Look at this, my dear. Oh, this is too much fun." Jim laughed with feeling. "In fact, I've never had this much fun in my life!"

Ava was too tired to move, to resist. The image of a distraught Sherlock made her stomach turn. Why was he crying? Then another thought surfaced in her as she looked at the plaster and cotton gauze over the vein in the crook of her left elbow. Why had they taken so much blood from her?

Jim read her thoughts and grinned.

"Your beloved cousin thinks you're dead. With the power of the blast and the amount of your blood in the car, they'll be just enough of your DNA to make him believe you were in the car. He won't be coming for you now."

Ava closed her eyes – in despair or relief, Jim couldn't tell which.

"But don't worry, pet, your part is far from over. I'm going to make him pay for thinking you were a fraud," Jim shifted closer to Ava in the back seat, "because you are just too impressive to believe, Ava. I loved the poetry and the Tamworth clue. Priceless. But, soon, Sherlock's going to learn what it feels like to be considered a fraud."

Jim leaned in closer and captured Ava's lips in a full kiss forcing his tongue down her mouth and tasted her hungrily. Then he pulled back just as quickly as he had started and continued as if nothing had happened.

"And then he's going to kill himself."


	20. Information

Many thanks to the wonderful readers. Hope you enjoy. I don't own Sherlock, only my original characters and plot.

Remember, silence may be golden but reviews are priceless!

* * *

Ch 20 - Information

* * *

At Ava's remembrance service, Sherlock was still too emotionally raw to say anything. Mycroft had spoken. So had John. But Sherlock's grief was too intense, too fresh to allow him to form just one sentence about how he had loved his cousin much less a whole bloody speech. He knew that his actions reconfirmed people's belief that he was a sociopath. But as usual, he didn't give a damn about what other people thought.

After the service, Sherlock was oblivious to the looks that Donovan and Anderson gave him. As they walked past the younger Holmes, Donovan dared to whisper, "Look at the freak's eyes! They're . . . red. You don't actually think he's been ..."

Before she could finish, John stepped up to Donovan and hissed, "I think only a _real _sociopath would disrespect the bereaved at a funeral. Don't you, Donovan?"

John's words shut her up as well as wiped the smirk off Anderson's face.

But, Sherlock was numb to those proceedings and any other goings on in the outside world. Instead, all the thoughts running around in his genius mind were that Ava's death was his fault. No matter what techniques he tried, the guilt ladened grief threatened to take up residence not just on an entire floor but rather the entirety of his mind palace. The one thought that prevented that happening was the information that Moriarty had not been in the blast. That bastard was still out there, and Sherlock would do whatever it took to avenge Ava's death.

* * *

Another hide out. Another bed. Instead of rope, a pair of handcuffs.

This time Jim played with Ava's hair. Twirling it around his finger. She focused on keeping her breathing steady. Determined to think about anything rather than accept the fear he was trying to make her feel.

Ava remembered her research that she had continued in the years apart from Sherlock. She remembered a man who had been falsely accused and sentenced to life in an Asian prison had said, 'When you're in a prison, everything soft and kind about you must be put to one side. You must become like your captor in order to survive.' Moriarty was cold, unpredictable, brilliant, and even a little insane. This was going to be the challenge of her life.

"You know, Ava, dear. You are brilliant. But, you're not the only one who knows Lewis Carroll."

Jim picked up a riding crop and ran it down the length of her body. As he started beating her, Jim brought the crop down like punctuation at the end of every line.

"_Speak roughly to your little boy./ And beat him when he sneezes;/ He only does it to annoy, /Because he knows it teases."_

"But one thing I can't stand, is that your worthless cousin has actually had you. He didn't deserve you. I almost wished I hadn't drugged you're coffee."

Still stinging from the beating, Ava looked at him questioningly. "You drugged the coffee?"

"Of course it was me. Don't be obtuse."

A slow giggle began at the back of Ava's throat and wiggled it's way out of her mouth in a full blown laugh.

"You drugged the coffee! Ha, ha ,ha!"

"What's so funny?" Jim's face looked worried again.

"I drugged the sugar and the creamer. Sherlock takes sugar. John takes cream. I take both. No wonder I was so fucked up! I'd had a triple shot."

This was a completely unexpected twist. Maybe Sherlock's cousin wasn't the goodie goodie that he thought she was?

Jim's grin was real and almost hopeful. "Now, why, my dear girl, would you do something like that?"

"What? Don't be obtuse. You mean apart from the obvious?"

Jim raised an eyebrow at Ava daring to throw his own words back at him.

"Tell me everything or I will skin you, film it, and make Sherlock watch your death a second time."

Ava's breath hitched. She didn't want Sherlock trying to find her and walking into a trap because of her. She had to make Jim believe her, gain his trust, then find a way to escape.

"I … I needed Sherlock's and John's help. There was sexual frustration between the three of us. It made sense to get it sorted. Besides," Ava grinned at the madman and abruptly changed her tone, "You've seen how gorgeous my cousin is. Don't tell me you haven't thought about having that amazing body to yourself."

"So, you really are just a manipulative little slut who takes what she wants."

"Well, on the danger of sounding childish, takes one to know one, Jimbo."

Jim used the back of his hand to hit Ava across the face. From nervous to seductive to flippant all in the space of a minute – interesting. He paused for a few moments as if weighing his options.

"What would you do, my pet, to make me change my mind about killing you slowly? Would you explain the importance of this?" Jim held up in front of her eyes the flash drive she'd been working on - the one with the smuggled out information on the GMOs. "Would you take my cock in your mouth and suck it like you mean it? Would you tell me everything about Sherlock's childhood?"

Ava forced her face to remain calm and blank – even at the thought of giving Jim head – even at the thought of betraying Sherlock. In order to survive, she had to be like Jim.

She stared him straight in the eyes and answered, "Yes."

Jim looked at her, his face an emotionless mask.

"I'm not a fool, Jim. I know that whatever information you want, that you can simply take it from me. Better to give you what you want the first time. Besides, it's _Sherlock's_ fault I'm here in the first place." She tried to sound bitter.

"Any time." Jim corrected.

"I'm sorry."

"Better to give me what I want any time that I want it."

"Of course."

Jim walked around to the head of the bed and unlocked the handcuffs and pulled Ava roughly to a seated position.

"Good. Now, I'm not big on keeping things in order. Let's start with the second one. Ava, be a good pet and loosen my belt. And remember," Moriarty latched on tightly to her chin, "Like you mean it."

* * *

Two months had passed since Ava's death, and Mycroft was actually in a good mood for a change because his men had just succeeded in capturing one James Moriarty. Now, he had the chance to deal with Ava's murderer. He considered for a moment of informing Sherlock, but decided against it until he spoke to the madman first himself.

As Mycroft entered Jim's cell, the elder Holmes mobile rang. "Mind if I get this?" Mycroft asked smoothly.

Jim just grinned and watched as Mycroft opened the message on his phone. Of course Jim knew what it was, his men always had impeccable timing. Jim's smile widened as he watched Mycroft's jaw drop.

On his phone was a picture of a very alive if very beaten Ava holding a copy of the same day's _Telegraph. _

"If you want to see a picture of Ava holding tomorrow's paper, Mr. Holmes, you are going to give me information."

Mycroft swallowed. "Information about what?" What did the madman want? Nuclear codes, missile locations, maybe a list of all their covert agents. But the answer Jim gave made Mycroft's knees weaken underneath him.

"Little brother, of course."


	21. Pulled

Many thanks to all the readers. Please keep commenting. It's wonderful to hear what you think.

By the way, the brilliant version of the Violin Sonata that I used as inspiration for this chapter is on youtube by Itzhak Perlman. Also, as this is slightly AU, the exact time line may not necessarily sink with TRF. I only own my original characters and original plot.

* * *

Ch 21 - Pulled

* * *

Two months. Two months of living with Jim. God, how had she survived this long?

Normally, Jim would tire of his playthings quickly and dispose of them as soon as they became 'boring'. Some of his pets had hardly lasted a week. But Ava was true to her word. She explained about the GMOs and their impact on the general population as well as her frustration at not finding anything new on the flashdrive. She expressed a truthful desire to pleasure Jim whenever he required it. She exposed information that she knew about Sherlock's past. Anything less. Any deviation from Jim's expectations would have signed her death certificate.

One day when Jim was actually taking his time – unhurriedly thrusting his cock in and out of Ava – he saw a look in her eye that he thought he had killed at the beginning. The anger in him rose as he pulled her hair back with all his force. She screamed, and he changed his pace from soft and languid to rough and harsh.

When he finished, he collapsed onto her body. "The next time you think about Sherlock while I'm inside you, I will make it so you won't be able to walk again. Do you understand, Darling?"

Ava's eyes cast downwards. All she could reply was, "Yes, Jim Dear."

"You know he's forgotten about you. Now that John's become his toy, he doesn't miss you at all."

Ava remained submissive, "Yes, Jim Dear."

"Forgive me if I don't quite believe you. The problem is how to get you to believe the truth?" Jim thought for a second before giving his expression of complete awe at his own cleverness. "I know. I'll hide cameras inside Baker Street. Then, Darling, you will see first hand that your sorry cousin has forgotten you."

Ava's dark eyes steadily held Jim's gaze this time. "Yes, Jim Dear."

* * *

The almost three months following Ava's funeral were the darkest that Sherlock had ever seen. He refused to eat. Barely slept. Staying in his silk robe all day, Sherlock played Bach's _Violin Sonata No. 1 in G Minor _over and over. What Sherlock couldn't say at the remembrance service he poured out into those notes - the breadth and depth of his love for Ava and his sorrow at her loss.

She had sent him the sheet music as a birthday present the year after her fall. He had always seen the first movement as her sadness of being separated, the second one as the way they'd run wild at his house during her visits, and the third like a memory of their many conversations. Even before her death, Sherlock had thought of Ava each time he played that piece.

After a particularly emotionally frantic rendition, Sherlock collapsed in his chair. John tried to place a cup of tea in his hand.

"Please, Sherlock. Drink. For me."

But Sherlock just brushed it away. "I can't, John. All I can think about is that Ava died because of me. She died because I doubted her and betrayed her trust. Because of my arrogance. I cost Ava her life. And, I'll...I'll never be able to change that."

"You could have done some things better. But, you didn't kidnap her. And, you weren't the one who killed her."

"Don't you think I know that?" Sherlock hissed.

"But, you're missing the big picture. Remember that Moriarty's still out there, Sherlock. He needs to be stopped before anyone else gets hurt. And..."

"And what?"

"We both know that you're the only one who can stop him. I'm not saying you need to go hunting for him, but you need to stay in practice for when he decides to raise his head again."

"You're right, John. And, I need to tell you I'm sorry."

John's breath hitched sharply. This was new for Sherlock – admitting that John was right _and _an apology. "Sorry, for what?"

"I know you loved her, too. And, I haven't been there for you."

John knelt down in front of Sherlock's chair setting the cup of tea down before gently removing the violin and bow from the detective's hands and resting them on the floor.

"We all grieve in different ways, love. Just know, that when you're ready to talk, I'll be here." John slowly moved in placing a soft kiss on Sherlock's forehead. "I will always be here."

As John pulled away, Sherlock's long finger tips lightly caught the doctor's chin making him stop. Sherlock's steel grey eyes held onto John's eyes of rich blue. Leaning into his lover and best friend, Sherlock's lips delicately grazed John's mouth. As they slowly let go, Sherlock moved his hand to rest on top of John's arm.

"John, I ...when I was a child, I loved Ava as a sister. When she came back, I loved her as a sister still, but more as well. And, I will always miss her. But...John...I need...you..."

"Love, I'm not going anywhere. But, right now, you need to eat."

"Please, John. I promise I will eat. But, I need..." Sherlock blushed a little and looked away from John.

John maneuvered his head back into Sherlock's line of sight. "Never be embarrassed to tell me what you need."

Sherlock's voice vulnerable and small. "Hold me?"

John's heart melted for his so-called sociopathic lover, and his smile strenghtened Sherlock's spirit in return. He stood up, holding Sherlock's hand the whole time, and gently pulled the detective up onto his feet. Then, stepping backwards, John sat down in his chair and reassuringly guided Sherlock to his lap. Wrapping around John with amazing fluidity, Sherlock rested his head in the crook of John's neck while John's strong, steady arms gave Sherlock the comfort he craved.

* * *

Ava watched that very scene play out before her in the black and white of the surveillance camera. Jim watched it from over her shoulder - his gaze hungrily gauging her reaction. He lazily ran his hand over Ava's shoulder which was injured in her fall so many years ago. The shoulder that was the source of so much hurt, regret, and pain. The shoulder which ended her childhood with Sherlock. The more Moriarty rubbed, the more the memories of pain were pulled to the surface.

Jim leaned in and whispered into her ear.

"Now... what does Jim Dear owe that naughty Sherlock for betraying his lovely Darling? He's betrayed her twice – as a child and as a man. What do I owe the man who made you fall and broke your heart."

Ava's voice was emotionlessly calm. "Jim Dear, I believe you owe him a fall."


	22. Hope

Thanks for the reviews. Sorry this is a little bit late, but my moggies knocked my laptop off and damaged the power cord connection. Had to order another cord and that took time. Ah, well. Again, I don't own Sherlock – just my original characters and original plot.

* * *

Ch 22 – Hope

* * *

Since John had convinced Sherlock that he had to be strong to prepare against Moriarty's return, Sherlock had been building up his walls again. He was very good at acting like the old Sherlock in public, but now it was starting to bleed through to their daily lives.

Today, Sherlock was engrossed in his microscope and ignoring his phone. Afraid that Lestrade would send him a case that would be too interesting to pass up. John had suggested that he take a break and do some low profile cases, and Sherlock was trying to listen to his advice.

A freshly showered John looked almost too adorable in his striped robe. However, Sherlock forced himself to focus on the slides in front of him.

Sherlock's phone beeped for the second time.

"I'll get it, shall I?" John put down his paper and rose from his chair.

John's hope for an easy week with Sherlock taking small cases died as he picked up Sherlock's phone and read the text. The smile was lost in his lips and eyes as he realized that Moriarty was back. John knew just how dangerous Jim was. The madman had almost killed John – had succeeded in killing Ava. But John Watson would be damned if he'd let Moriarty hurt Sherlock.

The doctor wished that he didn't have to take the phone to Sherlock. He wished he could just hit 'delete' and protect Sherlock from whatever was yet to come. But he knew he couldn't. He knew he been right about this situation. Jim Moriarty was a madman and Sherlock Holmes was the only one who could stop him.

With a grim resignation, John walked to where Sherlock worked at the kitchen table.

"Here." John handed Sherlock his phone.

"Not now. I'm busy."

"Sherlock..."

"Not now."

John's breathing became more intense and laboured. "He's back."

Sherlock looked up from the microscope and took the phone from John. Torrents of emotion swelled in him. But instead, he kept his face a mask. Sherlock's determined face mirrored the graveness of John's voice as he spoke those words. Their eyes met and a grim resolution passed between them.

They would bring Moriarty down this time. And they would do it for Ava.

* * *

Lestrade stood over Sherlock's shoulder as he played back the video. "That glass is tougher than anything."

All of Sherlock's attention was focused on the screen. "Not tougher than crystallized carbon. He used a diamond."

As Lestrade continued to run the video back, Sherlock gasped a little and put his hand to his mouth. "Stop. Stop the film!"

"Sherlock? What is it?" The concern evident in John's voice.

"Ava."

Lestrade sighed and tried to be comforting, "Listen, Sherlock, I know you must be feeling pretty raw right now, but..."

"No. That's not it. Don't you see? The smiley face. That's the way Ava would write my name when we were children."

"What? You mean she used to do that all the time?" John continued.

"No. Not every time. Just when we were about to start off on a case. It was her way of saying, 'Come and play.' Said it reminded her of me."

"But how could Moriarty know that? Ava..." John paused but continued the thought. "Ava was with him less that a day. Besides, it's hardly something that Jim would have pressed her for."

"And he didn't ask her many questions in the video he sent. And yet he knows about it." A strange glimmer came to Sherlock's eye and the corners of his lips began to turn upwards.

John spotted it immediately and shook his head. "No. Don't do this."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Start to get some hope in your head that she's still alive. I don't know how he knows about the smiley face. He might not even know for sure that Ava did that. A lot of little girls put smiley faces in their letters. He's doing this to get in your head. To break your focus. To be a distraction. Don't let him, Sherlock."

Sherlock's lips fell again. "Of course I won't, John."

* * *

As they dressed for the trial, Sherlock's eyes never left John. Losing Ava had been bad enough. But he knew that he couldn't survive losing John too. With Moriarty back, the scene at the pool played constantly in the back ground of Sherlock's mind. Sherlock promised John silently that he would do whatever it took to protect John from that maniac.

John asked Sherlock if he was ready to face the crowd – to face the crowd and restrain all the thoughts wrestling around in his head.

The consulting detective wanted to say. 'Crime of the Century? Ha! It's ridiculous that Moriarty has murdered over and over again and the only thing he's on trial for is attempting to burgle three national icons. Where's Ava's justice in all of this? Pathetic.'

But instead, Sherlock responded in nodding and saying "Yes". He kept his face a mask. Kept his cool as a barrage of reporters shouted their questions to him. Still, if this was going to be their best chance of putting Moriarty behind bars, Sherlock would do his best to be the prosecution's star witness.

* * *

Not long after the decision was made that Jim owed Sherlock a fall, Jim brought Ava a brand new set of clothes.

"Here, Darling. Clean up and put these on."

Ava rose without questioning. "Yes, Jim Dear."

After she had showered and dressed, it felt so odd to be wearing clothes again, Jim took her by the hand and led her to sit down beside him.

Jim brushed Ava's increasingly long hair out of her eyes. It was wild and curly and reminded him of Sherlock's except that it was medium brown instead of raven black.

"You know, Darling, I'll have to go away for a while so that I can make Sherlock pay for the fall he owes us."

"Yes, Jim Dear."

"So, I've had a very important decision to make."

"What was that, Jim Dear?"

"I'm giving you some freedom, Ava, my darling."

A little bit of hope rose in Ava's heart. All to be crashing down a moment later.

"But you will have a minder while I'm gone. Got to be sure that you stay around. Got to be sure that you show up at the right time. You still have your part to play in Sherlock's fall. Sebastian!" Jim called out and a man stepped into the room. "Let me introduce you to Mr. Moran, Darling."


	23. Challenges

Many thanks to all the lovely reviewers. I don't own Sherlock, more's the pity. I only own my original characters and my original plot. Cheers!

* * *

Ch 23 - Challenges

* * *

"Ava, Mr. Moran is going to watch over you for me while I'm gone. I've given him instructions to be kind to you if you are good, but he will beat you if you are naughty. You will have the freedom to move around the house as you will during the day. However, you will come back to this room each evening, and you will be handcuffed to the bed each night as usual. Sebastian will see to you."

Sebastian's smug grin shone as he watched the little scene play out.

"Yes, Jim Dear." Ava's reply was automatic. Just the way Jim had taught her.

"You are to listen to him as you would me – except on one account."

"Which is what, Jim Dear?"

"He's not to touch you the way I touch you."

"Jim Dear, no one could touch me the way you do." The corners of Ava's mouth started to turn upwards slightly.

Jim grabbed her chin roughly and held it tight. "Do you see me smiling, Darling? No. You see, now that I have to leave you, I find that I almost can't bear to be apart from you.

'What is this?' Ava thought to her self. 'Is this some sick way of Moriarty declaring that he loves me?'

Regardless of the truth of his words or lack thereof, Ava had to think quickly or he might just decide to revoke her semi-freedom.

"Then why leave at all, Jim Dear?" She snuggled closer to him.

Jim took Ava's hands in both of his and messaged the skin between her thumbs and first fingers with his own thumbs.

"At first, it was simply that we owe Sherlock a fall. But now, I've decided that the final problem must be solved. The final problem between Sherlock and myself – and you."

"What problem, Jim Dear?"

"A problem as old as the first love triangle. At first I thought it was a boring question. But the longer I've had you, the more it burns inside me. The final problem is 'Who does the girl love? Who does Ava love the best?' Sherlock or me?"

Ava's breath stopped for a brief second. She had to act fast. Had to make it convincing. It would be a challenge, but she had to do it. She knelt quickly and laid her head on Jim's knee.

"It hurts that you have to ask. Ava loves her Jim Dear. At first Ava was frightened by her Jim. But now she is sad that he has to leave."

Jim petted her hair almost absentmindedly. "Good. I want you to miss me. But, while I'm gone, you must prepare yourself for your role in Sherlock's fall. It's changed slightly since the beginning. At first you were simply going to be the bait. The means to getting Sherlock where I want him. But now, I've decided . . . I want you kill Sherlock yourself."

Ava spoke quickly not daring to look up into Jim's eyes. "I'll do anything for Jim Dear. But, won't I go to prison? I couldn't stand to be away from you for years."

"No worries, my sweet. With the fiction we're spinning, no one will convict a woman who was victimized by a sadist as a child and again for months now. Remember, you didn't fall as a child, Sherlock _pushed_ you out of that tree."

Jim brushed the hair away from the back of Ava's neck to reveal not so small cut marks of various freshness right below her hair line. He bent down and kissed her wounds.

"He'll get the blame for these too. Sherlock will die in disgrace – a fraud, a sadist, and a psychopath. Then, my darling, you'll have proved your love for me, and you'll be all mine. Problem solved."

Jim tilted her head up and searched her eyes for the slightest glimmer of doubt. She held his gaze with an intensity which mirrored his own before springing from kneeling position to capture his lips. With all his desire to dominate, Ava knew that he still enjoyed her displays of passion and devotion. The kiss was tongues and teeth and pain – the type that Jim liked the most.

As she finally pulled away from him, Ava spoke, "I will gladly kill anyone for my Jim Dear. Just tell me how you want it done."

Jim laughed and cupped Ava's face. "Oh, my darling, there will be time for that soon enough. And, how I will miss you. But, just remember, if you run away from me, I'll have Mycroft, John Watson, and even Sherlock, himself, killed with a sniper's bullet to the brain. In time, your family in America too. I will destroy everything you've ever loved if you betray me. Do you understand, Darling?"

"Yes, Jim Dear."

* * *

Although Sherlock had promised John that he wouldn't latch onto the hope that Ava was still alive, he couldn't help himself. Too many conicidences were happening. The smiley faces was one thing. Of course he knew that loads of little girls adorned their writing with smiley faces, but the only reason why they could be exactly alike would be that Ava had drawn it for Moriarty and that he had studied it.

Then there was the phrase Moriarty used in his text: "Come and play." It was the same phrase Ava had used when she had sent him challenges. John didn't seem to notice Sherlock's use of the phrase while watching the footage of Jim at the Tower. Sherlock hoped that he wouldn't make the connection.

Sherlock had sworn to protect John; but if there was even the slightest chance that Ava might be alive, Sherlock would turn the world upside down to find her.

The consulting detective slipped five £100 notes – one each to five of his best people in his homeless network. Moriarty may be in custody now but his base was out there somewhere; and if Ava were alive, that's where she'd be.

* * *

As Sebastian clicked the unusual handcuffs around Ava's wrists, the right cuff larger to accommodate the cast that still surrounded the right wrist, he also took out a pair of ear phones and an MP3 player.

"What's that for?"

"Jim wants to make sure that you sleep well while he's gone. This will help you sleep."

"I don't have trouble sleeping."

"Now, now. You wouldn't want me to tell Jim that you are refusing an order from him, would you?"

"No. Of course not, Mr. Moran."

"Ava, we're going to be together for several weeks." His eyes leered down on her. "You can call me Sebastian."


	24. Promises

Many thanks to those that are favouriting and alerting, and especially reviewing. Readers who do that give me great encouragement. As always, I do not own Sherlock, just my original characters and original plot. Cheers!

* * *

Ch 24 - Promises

* * *

When she awoke, Ava's hands were released from the cuffs and the MP3 player and headphones were nowhere to be found. She had been afraid when Sebastian placed them on her but found that what was played was simply various sounds repeated over and over again. She did fall to sleep quicker than normal but doubted that Moriarty would make her do that just for sleep alone.

On the small desk in her bedroom, Ava found a lap top and her flash drive resting on top of it. A note lay beside it.

_Feel free to keep researching your GMOs, Darling. Love from Jim Dear. _

Strange. What was his motive? Distraction so that she wouldn't try to escape? An attempt to make her think he really cared for her and what she cared about in return? Well, she'd have time to ponder that later. Right now, she felt her stomach growl.

Looking at the door handle, Ava considered a moment. Before, her meals had always been brought to her by Jim. But now, what? He'd stated she'd have the run of the place. Time to see if his words were true or if he was playing with her.

She reached for the handle and felt it turn easily in her hand. Opening the door carefully, Ava peaked her head out into the hallway before slowly venturing forward. Her room lay at the top of the stairs, and Ava tread carefully on the steps as she made her way down. To her dismay, most of the steps creaked. She turned to the right and found her way into a small but nicely fitted kitchen. Looking around, it seemed like she had the place to herself. Then she heard a voice behind her.

"Best to help yourself, Ava."

Ava jumped at the unexpected words of Sebastian who emerged almost out of nowhere.

"Because I'm not going to cook for you." Sebastian continued.

"I'd never ask you to, Mr. Moran."

"Tut, tut. Jimmy said you were a _bright_ girl."

"Sorry, _Sebastian_." Attempting to recover her composure, Ava tried to ignore him as she looked in the refrigerator. Grabbing yogurt and fruit, Ava went about the kitchen looking for bowls, spoons, and knives. As she cut the apple into small bits awkwardly attempting to hold it still with her plastered hand, she looked at him underneath her eyelids.

"Mr. Sebastian? Can I use the 'Mr'? It's just that the Southern in me would be more comfortable – good manners, you see."

"If you must." Sebastian seemed to be getting a little bored with her. He didn't see what fascination Jimmy had with her.

"Mr. Sebastian, can I clarify a few things? It's just that I don't want to get into trouble."

"Well, that will make a change."

Ava ignored Sebastian's goad. "Can I go anywhere in the house that I want?"

"Yes, until 22:00. Then you have to be safe and secured in bed."

"Ok. What if I want to go outside?"

Sebastian edged closer to her. "And why would you want to do that?"

"It's just that I'd like to get my cast off." She held up her right arm. "I was told it should be healed by now and that it wouldn't be good to leave it on longer than necessary. Besides, if this is a test, shouldn't I prove myself in multiple scenarios?"

"Jimmy has allowed short trips out – chaperoned by me of course."

"Of course, Mr. Sebastian. Would you make the arrangements then? I know you've promised Jim Dear to take care of me while he's away." Ava thought that asking to make her own doctor's appointment would be pressing her luck.

"I have 'promised', as you say. And one doesn't promise Jimmy something and not do it. I'll see to it right now. But, it won't be until tomorrow at the earliest. And, remember, you've promised Jimmy that you can be trusted. Remember who'll die if you break that trust."

"I remember it well, Mr. Sebastian."

With that, Sebastian eyed her and then checked his watch. "Hurry up and eat. Jimmy's instructed us to watch him when it all kicks off."

"When what all kicks off?"

Sebastian's eyes almost sparkled in glee. "The start of Sherlock's fall."

* * *

Sebastian and Ava watched from the flat screened tv in the lounge. Somehow a live feed had been connected to the security cameras at the Tower of London. They watched as Jim sprayed the guard in the face and wrote "Get Sherlock" on the glass. She gasped a little as she realized that he'd drawn the smiley face exactly as she had done for Sherlock in her youth.

Ava's stomach turned a little at that. Already the information she'd given the madman had betrayed her cousin. What would Sherlock think when he saw that?

She didn't have long to consider that before watching Jim's dance with the fire extinguisher culminating in his breaking of the glass. As Jim collected the royal items in his arms, Ava felt Sebastian's eyes on her. She had to make her reaction good. After wrapping the robe around himself and sitting down, Jim placed the crown on top of his head and held the scepter. Then he looked up at the camera and winked at them.

Ava let out an appreciative sigh and glanced over at her captor. "Oh, Mr. Sebastian, doesn't he look hot in a crown?"

* * *

The same day as Jim's attempted break-ins, as Sherlock was walking back to Baker Street and away from the last contact to receive a £100 note, the consulting detective searched through his phone to find the picture of Ava that he thought best suited her – one where she was wearing her jeans and light blue t-shirt – one where her dark curly hair was prominent and her smile shone. Sherlock's last contact had given him multiple numbers of homeless with camera phones and promised him that they'd all be on the look out for her. All Sherlock had to do now was send the picture.

As soon as he'd completed sending the picture, he sighed. He didn't hold out much hope for them finding her on the streets; but on the off chance that she did escape, Moriarty's men would be looking for her. This way, maybe the homeless network would find her first.

* * *

Two mornings after Jim's assault on the Tower, the Bank and the Prison, Sebastian woke Ava by taking off the headphones and shaking her shoulders.

"Time to get up, Ava."

"Yes, Mr. Sebastian." The words slipped out of Ava's mouth automatically without her thinking too much about them.

"Get a shower and then put on the clothes I'm laying out for you. I'm going to take you out to get your cast removed."

"Yes, Mr. Sebastian. Thank you."

Sebastian couldn't help himself and grinned a little. He hadn't originally thought much of Jim's plan for Ava's part in Sherlock's fall but maybe he'd been wrong.


	25. Temptations

Thanks to everyone who keeps adding this story to favs and alerts. Please keep reviewing though. It's the only way I know if you are actually enjoying this. I don't own Sherlock. I just own my original characters and plot.

* * *

Ch 25 - Temptations

* * *

John was almost ready to leave for the surgery that morning when he spied Sherlock coming out of their bedroom with the sheet draped over him. God, why did Sherlock have to look that sexy when John had to go to work? The temptation to stride over to him and rip the sheet off the gorgeous consulting detective was almost too much.

As Sherlock went over to the kettle, he put a hand up to cover a cough.

"That doesn't sound good, Sherlock."

"You're a doctor, John. No coughs sound good to you."

"You need to come into the surgery and let someone see you."

"I let you _see_ me."

"Not like that you crazed sex fiend. Besides, since we're involved, I shouldn't be the one treating you."

"But you're the only person of the medical profession that I can stand, _John._"

"More like I'm one of the few humans that you can stand at all."

"True. Still don't make me come to the surgery." Sherlock gave John his most puppy dog expression.

John sighed and kissed him on the forehead. "Alright, you. I'll bring something for your cough when I come home."

"You know I believe in the body's ability to heal itself."

"Well then eat one of those nice oranges I bought last night. And you will take the medicine I bring or your transport won't get transported to any exalted state of being tonight. Not by me anyway."

Sherlock gasped a little at John's implications. "You're always so hard on me, John."

"Only when you ask for it, dear."

* * *

That same morning, Sebastian guided Ava through the London streets. Hand on her arm, he maneuvered her with alertness ready to keep her secured if she showed the slightest hint of trying to run.

Although Ava's grogginess had worn off, but she still had no intention of running. She couldn't risk the lives of the people she loved by trying to escape – not yet anyway. If she ran away, Sherlock, John, Mycroft and her family in America would all be at Jim's mercy. So for now, anyway, she had to meekly follow Sebastian's lead.

Instead of stopping at a surgery, Sebastian steered her into a salon.

"What are we doing here?"

"If you're going out into the public, we need to change you up a little. Jimmy insisted."

"Very well. What do you want me to ask for?"

"Keep the long bangs, shorten everything else, colour it auburn, and straighten it."

"You call that a little? And, I won't be able to keep it straightened. It's the curse of the curls - my hair has a mind of its own."

"We'll worry about that later, but _that's _what you're going to ask for. I'll be right over there waiting for you and don't try anything. I'll be watching you the entire time."

"Yes, Mr. Sebastian."

* * *

More than a hour later, Ava emerged looking like a completely different woman.

'I suppose that was the whole damn point,' Ava thought ruefully to herself. If Sherlock was looking for her, any hope that he'd find her was severely diminished.

Sebastian was pleased at her transformation. He took her arm and led her back to the streets.

"Now, we can get that cast off you."

After a short tube ride and a long walk, Sebastian stopped Ava in front of a specific surgery. Somehow, she'd heard the name of it before.

"You've got to be kidding." Ava stared at Sebastian. "John works here!"

"I'm glad you appreciate the irony. You're going to be so close to salvation that you can taste it. Your appointment isn't with Dr. Watson, of course, but the temptation will be severe."

"I've already told you that I'm not going to do anything to sabotage Jim's plans. I want Sherlock to fall as much as you two do." Ava hissed.

"That's good, but you'll forgive me for not believing you as easily as Jimmy does."

"So, this is your test then?"

"The first of many."

* * *

Finally getting back to see a doctor, Ava sat down and Sebastian stood by the door closing it as they came in. A woman with light blue eyes and light brown hair that fell past her shoulders looked at her cast with interest. This must be Sarah, Ava thought. While John had never talked about his former dates with her, he had mentioned his high regard for Sarah as a doctor.

"How long have you had this cast, Mrs. Clarence?" Sarah began, "It should have been taken off ages ago."

"I don't really remember, Doctor. I've been so busy with work lately that I've lost track of time." She gave Sebastian a sideways glance hoping that her response would be acceptable. Since Sarah took no exceptional notice of it, Sebastian simply nodded his approval.

"Well, you must really do these exercises for therapy now that you're free from the cast." She looked in her desk for a pamphlet demonstrating different movements as exercises. "Let me call my nurse. She'll bring me one."

At that moment, Sebastian's phone rang. As he went to answer it, Sarah stated firmly, "I'm sorry sir, but you'll have to step outside the building to take that."

Sebastian glared and then looked at Ava. "I have to take this. I'll be waiting for you at the front door. Don't be too long, Becca."

It seemed like the nurse would never come. Ava finally told Sarah, "I'll be fine, Doctor, I can look up exercises on the internet. It's no bother."

"No, you won't. Wait right here, I'll get them."

When Sarah returned, Ava hastily put down the pencil she had been using from Sarah's desk.

"Hope you don't mind, Doctor. I was jotting down a few things. Trying to get my hand use to writing again."

"No. That's fine. Here is your exercise list."

"Thank you, Doctor." Ava took the pamphlet and hurried from the room.

* * *

Waiting just outside the surgery, Sebastian grabbed Ava as soon as she stepped out. He guided her to a nearby alley way and slung her into the wall.

"You had to do it. Didn't you? The opportunity was just too tempting."

"Do what? You raving lunatic!"

"You know what. You've left our lovely Doctor a note telling her to warn Sherlock and Doctor John." He tried to mimic Jim's sing songy voice but it didn't quite sound as menacing. But the pain in her newly freed wrist from the pressure he drove into it was real enough.

"No. I didn't." Ava rifled through her handbag with her left hand to find a piece of stationary that she had taken from Sarah's desk. It had the name of the surgery and its address written across the top. "I was writing my fucking shopping list, asshole!" She handed Sebastian the list. To his surprise, it was a shopping list.

"You don't actually think that I'm coming outside and not getting some actual decent food while I'm here?"

Sebastian gazed at it for a moment before releasing Ava and handing the paper back to her. But now she was pissed and not going to let it go.

"And just remember, Jim Dear doesn't want me damaged. If you're the one who damages me, I don't think he'll be happy. Now, where's the best Tesco closest to the house, Sebastian. I want to get these things and get home."

"Come on then." Sebastian huffed and taking Ava's arm again led her back into the London streets.

'At least I know one thing,' Ava thought to herself. 'He's got my clothes bugged for sound.'

* * *

Before Sarah could get her notes finished on her last patient, one Rebecca Clarence with a removal of a hand cast, she found another note from her stationary hidden at the bottom of her other paper work. It read:

_Alive and as safe as can be expected. Everyone in danger if I run. Tell SH, JW, MH, and fam. in US to watch out. Jim Dear means business. - AG_

At first Sarah didn't know what to make of it. Then she remembered John's other flat mate – a cousin to Sherlock – who had died awhile back. What had been her name?

Sarah ran out of her office to the reception desk. "Where's Doctor Watson?"

A voice from behind her said, "Right here. What's the emergency?"

Sarah grabbed his hand and led him back to her office.

"John, I had a strange case in here just half an hour ago. A woman in a right hand cast with a creepy husband came to get it removed. He got a call on his mobile, and I made him leave. Then I had to leave for a few moments to get something. I just found this at the bottom of my paperwork."

Sarah handed him the note. John read it and reread it. His hand shook as he took his phone from his pocket.

"Can you have the footage from the outside cameras and the inside camera sent in here?"

"It will take some time, but yes."

"Good, cause I want Sherlock here when we watch it."

John placed the phone up to his ear.

"Sherlock?"

"John, what is it? You normally text if it's something mundane. Which with you it usually is."

"I need you to get to the surgery. Now."

"I told you this morning that I only have a little cough."

"Sherlock, it's not about your damn cough. I don't want to talk about it over the phone."

"You'll have to do better than that, John. I'm doing an experiment with citric acid and tapeworms."

"You're using my oranges aren't you, Sherlock?"

"Of course I am."

"Sod this. Focus Watson." John said almost to himself. "You know I told you not to _hope_? You remember that conversation?"

"Yes. Clearly." Even Sherlock's words seemed to straighten up just like his back did as he said them.

"Then get your soddin' arse down here now. I think I was wrong."


	26. Code

Apologies for taking so long with this one. Stuff happened as stuff usually does.

Please leave your thoughts and comments, the good, the bad, etc. It really does help me.

As always, I don't own Sherlock. I only own my original plot and original characters.

* * *

Chapter 26 - Code

* * *

"There." Sarah pointed to the image of Ava and Sebastian leaving the building from the surgery's surveillance cameras. "That's the couple that came in here. The man was very controlling."

"The facial images aren't very good at this distance, Sherlock, but I'll try to zoom in." John worked at the computer while Sherlock turned to focus on Sarah.

"What about the woman?" The detective urged. "Close your eyes and try to remember every detail that you can about her. Please, Sarah."

"I'm trying, Sherlock." Sarah closed her eyes. "Ok. Short, straight, reddish hair – very nicely fixed."

"Good, visual. What about auditory? What was her voice like?"

"Non-descript, American maybe. Oh, there was a smell of chemicals."

"Chemicals?"

"As if she'd recently had her hair processed. That smell doesn't usually go away for a day or two after you've had it done."

"Sherlock, I think I've got something."

The detective turned back to John and looked at the zoomed in picture. The hair was wrong, but the face was undeniably Ava's.

Sherlock clutched the note in his hand. "It's her. It's Ava. Sarah, how did she seem?"

"Nervous, jumpy, sad."

"So, Moriarty's had Ava all this time? He's been in prison - the trial is on. What's he playing at?" John asked.

"I don't know. Not yet. But the pictures I sent out to the homeless network are useless."

"Hold on, when did you do that?"

"Nevermind. Besides, it's pointless anyway."

"Pointless?"

"If Moriarty's man figures out that we know she's alive, he's probably got orders to kill her. Right now we have to play his game."

"You intend for us to do nothing?"

"No, John. We're going to be very busy. Didn't you read the note? 'Everyone in danger if I run'. How can everyone she listed be in danger if..."

"...if Moriarty doesn't already have them in his sights."

"Exactly! John, I think it's time we called on the British Government. I want to find out who this man is!"

* * *

"Sebastian Moran." Mycroft looked at the picture and handed it back to Sherlock. "One of Moriarty's best."

"Look at the girl with him, Mycroft. Really look."

The elder Holmes gasped trying to sound surprised, "Ava." He didn't want Sherlock finding out that he already knew she still lived. "Moriarty's better at swapping cars than I imagined. Somehow he fooled our surveillance and kept her alive."

To anyone else, Mycroft's words were innocent, but Sherlock saw right through them.

"You knew." Sherlock's voice was cold and hard.

Damn. There was no point lying now. "Yes."

"Hang on. What did he know?" John questioned.

"Brother dear knew that Ava lived. And didn't tell me." Sherlock's voice strained in anger.

"I'm afraid it's a bit worse than that, Sherlock."

"Explain." Sherlock gritted through his teeth.

"We captured Moriarty some time ago with the intent to bring him down for Ava's murder."

"And?" Sherlock's baritone hissed.

"And instead, he blackmailed me for information. If I didn't talk, he really would kill her."

At that Sherlock breathed a little. This was final confirmation that Ava truly was alive and that he wasn't chasing down some wished for dream. "What information did he want?"

"You. Everything you've ever done. Your whole life. And I gave it to him. Because I couldn't stand to be responsible for Ava's death a second time. Forgive me."

Mycroft handed Sherlock his phone and poised it over days worth of photos of Ava and the Daily Telegraph.

The sight of a living, breathing Ava made Sherlock forget his anger at Mycroft's deception. He uncharacteristically hugged his brother in joy.

"No. No. You did the right thing, My." Sherlock hadn't slipped into his old endearment for Mycroft in decades.

Mycroft loosened Sherlock's grip on him and held his arms from him at a distance. "You realize what this means and what he intends to do."

Sherlock waved him away dismissively. "Of course. But now we've got time! Mycroft. We've got time to plan." Sherlock handed Ava's note to Mycroft. "We have to find a way of keeping everyone on this list safe without Moriarty finding out."

John continued. "Essentially, we have to out snipe the snipers. Discover who they are and have better snipers trained on them to prevent any attacks. Can you do it, Mr. British Government?"

"It won't be easy." Mycroft's lips thinned into a determined face. "But it'll be done. My biggest worry though – why does she call him 'Jim Dear' in her note?"

* * *

"Sherlock, are you listening? He's out. You know he'll be coming after you. Sherlock?" John closed his phone in disgust. Why did Sherlock pick now to go all silent. He needed to get back to the flat as quickly as he could.

Sherlock put the phone down and put the kettle on. He knew that Jim was coming for him. He didn't need John to state the obvious. But he had to be careful. He had to play Jim's game without giving his own away. He had to pretend that Ava was dead.

Setting the tea tray down, Sherlock picked up his violin. He started playing the piece he'd been playing for months since Ava's 'death' - Bach's _Violin Sonata No. 1 in G Minor._ Focusing his mind on the task in front of him. He knew that everything depended on the performance he was about to give.

He heard the creak on the stairs before he saw the reflection in the mirror of Jim opening the door.

"Most people knock. But then you're not most people, I suppose."

"Very, touching, Sherlock. I'm sure she'd approve. That was one of Ava's favourite's wasn't it?"

"How would you know?"

"I didn't. It's just that you've been playing it 24/7 since she died. It must have meant something to her. Just like she must have really meant something to you. Shame she had to die. Right when I was starting to have fun with her. I bet she would have been loads of fun. "

Sherlock ignored Jim's comments and poured the tea.

Jim took his cup and continued talking. "But be honest, you're just the tiniest bit pleased."

"With the verdict?"

"With me - back on the streets. You would never have wanted me to be convicted of robbery when I should be sent down for murder. Ava's murder. Remember, every fairy tale needs a good ole fashioned villain. You need me or you're nothing. Because we're just alike, you and I – except you're boring. You're on the side of the angels."

Jim went on to explain about his computer code that allowed him into any computer in the world and how everyone was begging for his attention in order to get it.

Finally, Sherlock rejoined the conversation. "So, how are you going to do it? Burn me?"

"Ah, that's the problem – the final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet? What's the final problem? I did tell you, but did you listen?"

"Well, if you wanted a good listener, you should have kept my cousin alive. Ava was exceptional."

"She was cute, but ordinary. Aren't ordinary people adorable. You should know – you had Ava – now you've got John. I should get myself a live-in one." Jim had to fight himself from giving Sherlock a look that said he already had a live in one now that _he _had Ava.

"Why are you doing all this?

"It would be so funny."

"You don't want money or power – not really. What is it all for?"

"I want to solve the problem – our problem - the final problem. It's going to start very soon, Sherlock. The fall. But don't be scared. Falling's just like flying except there's a more permanent destination."

"Never liked riddles."

"Learn to. Because I owe you a fall, Sherlock. I O U."

Sherlock waited until Jim left before picking up the apple he'd left and looking at Jim's handy work. He had carved IOU into the apple. Sherlock double checked that Jim had left the building before allowing himself the smallest of smiles. Ava was clever. She was more clever than Moriarty, and Jim didn't even realize it.

* * *

"_Locky?"_

"_Yes, Avid." _

"_You know you're my best friend."_

"_In England, yes. But, I'm sure back home you have other friends."_

"_No. Just you. I love you, Locky." Ava wrapped her little arms around the lanky teenager and gave him a big hug. "But I also know that you don't like people saying that out loud. So, I've come up with a code so I can tell you with out you getting embarrassed."_

"_Code? Codes are good. So, little Avid, what's your code going to be?"_

_She pulled out a drawing she had coloured onto paper. " 'I O U' You see? Simply leaving out most of the letters of 'I love you', that's what's left. Besides, it's double meaning will probable confuse other people." Ava looked up at him with expecting eyes. "What do you think, Locky?"_

"_I think IOU too. Now, let's check on that turtle we found in the garden. We should probably feed it some more today."_

"_Hurray!" Ava ran ahead of Sherlock and headed off to the kitchen to get the food.  
_


	27. Acting

Thanks to all the people who favourite and alert and especially the reviewers. I don't own Sherlock – just my original characters and original plot.

* * *

Ch 27 - Acting

* * *

In the almost two months that passed since Moriarty had visited Sherlock, he and Sebastian spent a lot of time preparing Ava. The nightly subliminal recordings instilled in Ava a need to obey Jim and a hatred for anyone from the Holmes family.

Day after day, she became more vacant, but that didn't stop Jim from using her over and over again. He couldn't explain it. The more he fucked her – the more he wanted her. Slow. Rough. Gentle. Hard. Sometimes he'd finish with her in ten minutes. Other times he'd tease them both and not finish for hours. During times like that, he could almost see a clarity of hatred come into her eyes as he played at which motions would hurt her most. Then in an instant she was gone and vacant again. All he knew was that this made his Ava far from ordinary. Was the vacant Ava acting for him or was it real? He had to be sure before playing his final game against Sherlock. But he was at a loss as to how to determine it.

When he left her, Ava curled herself up into a ball. Her mind was numb as was her body after so much attention from Jim. It was embarrassing. She was a cousin to the great Sherlock Holmes. She was taught by him as a child. Her mind was better than this. But somehow she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't in control anymore. She missed Sherlock and John. She needed Sherlock and John. But as Sebastian put those headphones on her again, those thoughts were lost – replaced with someone else's thoughts entirely. He laughed to himself. He didn't even have to restrain her anymore.

When she woke in the morning, she knew what she had to do.

* * *

An hour after Ava woke up, Jim went to check on her; and she was gone. He checked the bathroom door. It was locked.

"Ava? Open the door. Ava?"

No reply. So, he took his gun out and shot the knob off the door.

Inside was Ava. In the bath. In the water and the blood. The mirror was broken and a shard of it was on the floor where it had slipped from her fingers. Two long cuts running from her wrists to halfway up her forearms had allowed the blood to poor freely from her body.

"Sebastian! In here now!"

As both men took an arm and worked to stop the bleeding, Ava started muttering.

"What was that, my love?" Jim whispered in her ear.

"Had to kill Holmes."

"But he's not here, love."

"But I'm his cousin and I'm here. I'm just as much a Holmes as he is."

Sebastian looked at Jim. "I think you've out done yourself this time."

"I know. She's ready, Seb. Let it start."

"Which version?"

"Oh, I think we can go with the Hansel and Gretel."

Jim stroked Ava's hair absentmindedly. "You are ready, my love. You are finally ready to kill Sherlock Holmes."

* * *

Even though both Sherlock and John knew what their plan was, they still had to go through it – acting all the time. Acting because they were sure that Moriarty had someone watching their every move – the snipers. All the time they were being watched by a man with a gun. Sherlock turned away from John in order to text. Again, he really didn't need to. John knew exactly what he was texting. But, they still had to act after all.

_**Come and play.**  
**Bart's Hospital rooftop.**  
**SH**  
**PS. Got something of yours you might want back.** _

So while John knew that Mrs. Hudson was ok, he also knew that he needed to make sure his fight with Sherlock looked real. It was all just part of the plan, and Mycroft had promised to out snipe the snipers trained on him. He wasn't completely comfortable with leaving Sherlock alone, but knew that Moriarty would expect Sherlock to do it in order to keep him safe.

When Jim texted back,_**"Back at you. We're waiting... JM", **_Sherlock was a little surprised. He didn't expect for Jim to bring Ava. He reminded himself to look surprised when he saw her.

Reaching the roof, Sherlock heard the sound of the opera before he saw Moriarty. Then he walked from the interior roof access and scanned the windows of the other buildings for snipers. He couldn'st see any, but that didn't mean that they weren't there.

What he didn't expect was how severely sick Ava looked. She was sitting by the ledge of the roof propping herself up on the metal bars of the outside access stairs. He didn't have to fake the surprise after all. Her hair was all matted and tangled. Dark circles ringed her eyes. Her breathing was weak and uneven.

"Ava!" Sherlock gasped, but she didn't seem to notice him.

Jim watched Sherlock's reaction with glee.

"Well. Here we are at last. Ava and you and me. And our problem, Sherlock. The Final Problem. Who does our girl love the best? So boring, isn't it? It's just... love... after all. All my life I've had no need of it. All my life I've been searching for distractions. And look at me now. You and Ava were the best distractions and now I don't even have you. Because I've beaten you both. And you know what? In the end it was easy. It was easy. Now I've got to go back to playing with the ordinary people. And it turns out you're ordinary, Sherlock. Just like all of them. Oh well."

Jim moved to stand and walked around Sherlock.

"But, I'll tell you who's NOT ordinary, Sherlock. You're little cousin. Oh, no. She has surprised me continuously for all the months I've had her. Oh, and I have had her. Over and over again." He saw the naked concern in Sherlock's eyes for Ava. If he didn't hate Sherlock so much, he might have felt pity. But all he felt was jealousy. Jealousy that the only other person he'd ever found to be not ordinary might prefer Sherlock over him. Still he had to act his part and that meant letting Sherlock get closer to Ava. Then his Ava could do what he'd programed her to do – kill one consulting dective.


	28. The Fall

Thanks to all my readers – you are great. I don't own Sherlock. I just own my original story and original plot. Silence may be golden but reviews are more precious by far.

* * *

Chapter 28 – The Fall

* * *

Jim looked at the scene before him with glee. Sherlock, Ava, and the rooftop. His plan was perfect, and it was almost over.

"It's ok, Sherlock. You can go to her."

In an instant, Sherlock was at Ava's side. But, he stayed slightly back. He didn't want to frighten her. She was so close to the ledge.

"Avid." Sherlock whispered using his childhood name for her. No response. "Avid, please. Look at me."

Ava turned her gaze to the voice she heard and slightly grinned in recognition. "Locky. Sing me my favourite song. You know. From Hansel and Gretel." And she started to hum a tune and then softly sing: "Abends, will ich schlafen gehn."

Sherlock looked her over and saw the way her wrists were bandaged and how far the bandages went up her forearms. He bolted up and went back to Jim.

"Kidnapping those children. Sending those breadcrumbs. It's all been for this. You found out about our history. And you've tortured Ava because of me."

"Guilty as charged. But this bit didn't come out for til much later. Mind you, after a few days of beating the shit out of most people, there are few things I don't know. But, Ava was strong. I didn't find out about Hansel and Gretel till right before I broke into the Tower – over seven months since I'd started on her. Amazing girl. It's a shame you hurt her."

"_I_ hurt her?"

"Yes. Didn't you know? On top of being a fraud, you, Sherlock Holmes, abused your cousin as a child and started again when your brother put her in your care over a year ago. Tut, tut, Sherlock. A fraud and a pervert."

"Ava wouldn't tell a lie like that."

"Look at her, Sherlock."

Sherlock's gaze moved down to the woman hugging her knees and rocking back and forth.

"How much of her own mind do you think she has left? Now shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building. Nice way to do it."

"Do it. Do what? Yes, of course. My suicide."

"'Genius detective proved to be a fraud and a child molester.' I read it in the paper so it must be true. I love newspapers. Fairy tales... and pretty grim ones too."

This was not going the way Sherlock had planned. "I can still prove that you created an entirely false identity."

"Oh just kill yourself. It's a lot less effort. Go on. For me."

"You're insane."

"You're just getting that now? Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive. Your friends will die if you don't."

"John."

"Not just John. Everyone."

"Lestrade. Mrs. Hudson."

"Three bullets. Three gunmen. Three victims. There's no stopping them now. Unless my people see you jump. You can have me arrested, you can torture me. You can do anything you like with me, but nothing's going to prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your only three friends in the world will die. Unless -."

"Unless I kill myself and complete your story."

"You gotta admit, that's sexier."

"And I die in disgrace."

"Of course. That's the point of this. Off you pop. I told you how this ends. Go on. Your death is the only thing that's going to call off the killers. I'm certainly not going to do it."

"What about Ava?"

"Oh, she's mine. But if you kill yourself like a good boy, I promise to stop hurting her."

"And if I don't?"

"Look at her, Sherlock. How much more torture do you think she can stand?"

"OK. I'll do it. Can I have a moment of privacy – with Ava?"

"Sentimental? Doesn't suit you, Sherlock, but go ahead."

After a moment with Ava, Sherlock stood up, looked at the London sky, and started to laugh.

Jim was furious. "What?! What is it? What did I miss?"

" You're not going to do it. So the killers can be called off then. There's a recall code or a word or a number. I don't have to die if I've got you."

"Oh, you think you can make me stop the order? You think you can make me do that?"

"Yes. So do you."

"Sherlock, your big brother and all the King's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to."

"Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember? I am you. Prepared to do anything. Prepared to burn. Prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell, I shall not disappoint you."

"Nah. You talk big. Nah. You're ordinary. You're ordinary. You're on the side of the angels."

"Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them."

"No. You're not. I see. You're not ordinary. No. You're me. You're me. Thank you. Sherlock Holmes. Thank you. Bless you."

Jim reached out to shake Sherlock's hand, and the detective cautiously complied. Releasing Jim's hand, Sherlock saw Jim glance over his shoulder to where Ava sat on the ledge. He could tell that Jim didn't like what he saw.

Jim's voice was shaky for the first time. "Ava? What?"

Sherlock turned to watch Ava's hand hold onto the bar of the ladder as she tried to place her feet on its outside rungs.

"Abends will ich schlafen gehn." Ava sang the words softly to herself as she let go of the bar for a split second before catching it again and laughing. She was dangerously close to going over the ledge.

"Dear God, no!" Sherlock ran back to Ava and held onto her - pulling her to where her feet were securely on top of the roof again. He held her close but reflexively jumped back as a shot rang out.

Jim smiled for a moment – but only a moment. Instead of Sherlock bleeding out on top of Barts, Ava pulled her hand away from her own stomach. It was soaked in her blood.

Ava looked up at Jim and grinned. "Did I surprise you that time, Jim Dear? I did, didn't I?" She collapsed to her knees dropping her gun over the side of the building in the process.

Sherlock quickly called 999. "A woman's been shot. Roof of Bart's hospital. Yes, I said the bloody roof!"

Jim put his hands to his head. It wasn't supposed to end this way. Ava slowly collapsed in front of his eyes. Sherlock tried to stop the bleeding with his scarf.

Ignoring her wound and Sherlock, Ava's voice trembled. "Can't solve the final problem now – can we? Or maybe I can. Do you want me to tell you, Jim Dear?" Ava's voice got fainter the longer she talked .

Jim came closer and Sherlock blocked his path to her.

"It's ok, Locky. I need to talk to Jim Dear." Ava's voice rasped.

It grated on his nerves that Ava kept calling him that, but Sherlock grudgingly let him through. "Keep pressure on the wound, or I will kill you."

Tears were actually visible in Jim's eyes. "As if I would do anything less." He knelt and continued putting pressure on the wound.

"Come closer, Jim Dear."

This couldn't be happening. Jim's eyes had tears in them. His Ava couldn't have just shot herself instead of shooting Sherlock. He couldn't lose her - the only other not ordinary person he'd ever met. Jim leaned in close enough for Ava to whisper in his ear.

"It was you. The GMOs. You talk big – complaining that everyone is ordinary. But that's what you want so you can control them."

Jim's eyes widen. How could Ava have found out?

"You should have never let me have free run of the house. Oh, what I information I've gotten on you."

Suddenly the same door that Sherlock had come through was flung open and medics ran out. Jim turned his head to watch.

But Ava continued speaking – barely above a whisper. Her lips were at Jim's ear, and he felt her lips kiss the soft flesh right below it.

"One more surprise for you." At that another shot rang out. Jim stumbled back grabbing his own stomach. Ava grinned, "I brought a second gun just for you. Hope you like it."

With that, Sherlock pushed Jim away from Ava and secured the second gun. But now the medics were taking an interest in Jim first over Ava.

Sherlock's baritone voice increased in volume as he was already deducing their actions, "No. No. What are you doing?"

The medic shrugged his shoulders. "His injuries are fresher. He's got a better chance of surviving. We've got to take him first."

No. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let Moriarty be saved and leave Ava to bleed to death on Bart's roof. No. He had to act.

Sherlock grabbed Moriarty by the coat and leaned him over the edge of Barts.

"I'll see you in hell." Sherlock released him and let Jim fall.

Turning back to the medics, Sherlock said, "He's got bigger problems right now. Help the girl!"


	29. Pirates

Sorry this has taken so long. I don't own Sherlock, just my original plot and characters.

The lyrics and the translation are from the Evening Prayer from the Hansel and Gretel opera. It is quite a beautiful piece of music. Anyway, thanks for reading and especially taking the time to give feedback. Lots of love to you all. xx

* * *

"_You don't know anything about "Hansel and Gretel'!" Little Ava vehemently argued with her cousin._

"_I know that they **both** push the witch into the oven." Teenage Sherlock countered crossing his arms in front of him with an air of superiority. _

"_No. They are both captured by the witch. But Hansel is kept in a cage, and Gretel kills the witch by herself."_

"_According to what source?"_

"_This one." The little girl handed her cousin a large story book._

_Sherlock looked at the pictures and laughed. "That's just the artist's interpretation. The **opera** has them both doing it. Besides, I don't see what the big deal is."_

"_Girls never get to be the hero in stories." Ava huffed disappointedly. "Gretel just has to be the one to save her brother." The little girl paused, "I'd save you if I had to."_

_Sherlock considered Ava for a moment. "I know you would. But it wouldn't be fair if I couldn't save you too, would it?"_

"_I suppose not."_

"_So we're agreed? We'd each save each other if we had to?" Sherlock's grey-green eyes looked hopefully at his cousin. He wanted to keep Avid happy._

"_Ok. But I get to save you first." At that Ava punched Sherlock in the arm._

"_Fine." Sherlock conceded. "Can we move on now?"_

_Ava nodded._

"_Good. Let's play pirates. Last one in the tree likes Mycroft." He grinned down at her and took off in a run._

"_No fair. Locky, wait up!" _

_When she reached the tree, Sherlock was already in its lower limbs. Ava started climbing up after him._

"_You may have gotten here first, but I can climb higher." Ava declared as she followed Sherlock into the tree._

"_Ava. Don't go too far." Concern becoming obvious in Sherlock's voice._

"_I am not afraid of anything! I am The Green Lady." Ava yelled back and climbed until she was out of Sherlock's reach. Ava had researched female pirates and had loved the stories of The Red Lady. But since green was her favourite colour, Ava became The Green Lady. _

"_I board ships acting like a damsel in distress. Then when their guard is down, I strike!"_

_Abruptly, she stopped and caught her breath balancing on a branch that Sherlock thought was dubious at best.. He stayed quiet though - not trusting himself to hide his fear for her._

_Just then, Mycroft stepped out from the house and shouted at them to come in for tea. Ava shifted her weight too quickly on the branch. It broke, and she fell to the ground impaling her shoulder on a branch that already laid on the ground. _

"_Avid!" Sherlock called out and raced down from the tree to reach her._

_Little Ava's breath sharply gasped and tears formed at her eyes. She tried to speak but the words wouldn't come._

_He held her hand and wiped her unruly hair out of her eyes. "It will be ok, Avid. Just breathe."_

_Finally, Ava whispered. "'Abends will . . .."_

_Understanding what Ava wanted and complying with her wish, the teenage Sherlock sang softly to her._

Abends, will ich schlafen gehn,

Vierzehn Engel um mich stehn:

Zwei zu meinen Häupten,

Zwei zu meinen Füßen,

Zwei zu meiner Rechten

Zwei zu meiner Linken,

Zweie, die mich decken,

Zweie, die mich wecken

Zweie, die mich weisen

Zu Himmels-Paradeisen.

_After first singing it in German, Sherlock switched to English._

When at night I go to sleep

Fourteen angels watch do keep

Two my head are guarding

Two my feet are guiding

Two are on my right hand

Two are on my left hand

Two who warmly cover

Two who o'er me hover

Two to whom 'tis given

To guide my steps to heaven

_When the emergency services arrived, they pushed him out of the way distressing Ava even more. _

"_NO! Locky!" Ava cried as she was loaded into the ambulance. It was all Mycroft could do to hold Sherlock back. _

"_We need to let them help her now, little brother."_

"_I know!" Sherlock wrestled himself out of Mycroft's grasp and squarely punched the elder Holmes in the face. "It's your fault. If you hadn't yelled at us..." Sherlock ran his hands through his curls - a knot quickly forming in his stomach. "I can't stand this, My. I feel so . . . so . . ._

* * *

"Helpless. I feel so helpless, John."

A much older Sherlock paced back and forth in Barts. Ava was in surgery, and all they could do was wait.

John sat in a chair, leaned over, and ran his hands over his head. "I know, Sherlock. But I also know they have the best here. If anyone could pull Ava through this, they can. And, if it had to happen, at least it happened at a hospital." A moment after John continued, "That was part of the plan, after all."

"Yes, yes." Sherlock checked his watch and started pacing again.

"Did you know?" John ventured.

Sherlock turned around to face his blogger. "About what?"

"About Ava's plan – about the two guns?"

"No, not at first. But when Moriarty allowed me a moment to be with her, she signaled me."

"How?"

"'_The Green Lady is about to strike_.'"

"What does that mean?"

"That was the pirate name she gave herself when she was a child. I... I..."

"What is it, Sherlock?"

"I can't believe she trusted me enough to remember it. It was decades ago. I've let her down so much, John, and she still trusted that I would remember that."

"Don't say that. You didn't let her down. Besides, no one else figured it out either."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? Avid spent months of unspeakable torture at the hands of a madman simply because I didn't catch his lies!"

John shook his head. "Still, you saved her in the end. That's what matters most."

"We don't know that. She might still..." Sherlock couldn't bring himself to say "die".

John stood up and went to his lover, his Sherlock, and wrapped his arms around him. Sherlock leaned into the embrace and rested his head in the crook of John's neck and shoulder.

"I don't know if I can lose her again, John."

John felt a flutter in his gut. Maybe with Ava back, Sherlock would rather be with her and not him. He couldn't bear to lose his consulting detective; but if Sherlock wanted Ava, John wouldn't stand in the way of his happiness. "You won't. I'm sure she will be fine."

An hour later, the surgeon came out and spoke to them. He looked worn and tired. "The wound was bad, but it could have been a lot worse. And, the young lady is a fighter. I think she will make a full recovery."

Sherlock's eyes brightened at the news.

John asked, "When can we see her?"

"It will still be few hours before she wakes up, but she's going to be extremely weak. The nurses will let you know which private room they put her in."

"Thank you, doctor." John smiled and shook his hand as the doctor left."

"At least Mycroft's good for something," Sherlock muttered. "Getting her a private room is … good."

John looked at the man he loved. Sherlock looked tired and worn. John sighed. "Why don't we get something to eat while they're transferring her?"

"I don't need to eat."

"Yes, you do. You won't be any good to Ava if your body can't function. Besides, a new little juice bar just opened up just two blocks from here." John paused for a moment. "Ava would approve."

Sherlock grinned at that. "Yes, she would. Ok, then. But I don't want this to take long."

* * *

Just as they finished their juice and stepped out of the little juice bar, Sherlock's phone rang.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft's voice sounded frightened.

"Mycroft? What's wrong?"

"One of the snipers escaped. Sebastian Moran – Moriarty's best assassin – and if reports are accurate, his lover too. Where are you? I'm sending extra security, but it will take them a few minutes to get there."

"We're two blocks away from Barts, but we're on our way right now."

As he watched Sherlock during the conversation, John could see him go even paler if that was possible.

"What's wrong?"

"We need to get back to Ava, John. She's in danger."

With that, Sherlock Holmes sprinted off in the direction of Barts, and John Watson followed.


	30. Confessions

Thanks to everyone who has read, and those who have added this to favourites or alerts. You have kept me going through this. I don't own Sherlock, just my original plot and characters.

* * *

Sherlock and John ran back to Barts. Sherlock's mind raced with the possibilities of what Moran would do to Ava if he got there first.

Barreling down the hospital hallway, Sherlock reached Ava's room first and gasped. Moran stood over Ava's bed - his gun in his right hand pointing it at Ava. Quickly, he switched the gun to his left hand and aimed it at Sherlock. Ava remained unconscious beneath him.

"Well, this is more fitting than I could have imagined. I had to watch while you and this _bitch_ killed Jimmy. Now you can watch me kill Ava. I was going to make it quick, but I can hold you off with my gun while I strangle her."

"You don't have to do this, you know." Sherlock's projected his voice louder than normal. "What is the point in any of this now that Moriarty's dead? You're surrounded in a hospital, and there's no way out. Why add a murder charge to your charges for attempted murder?"

"Doesn't matter. I've killed so many people that once they start digging, they'll find out about the rest quickly enough." Sebastian laughed. "No, if I'm going out, I'm taking you and her with me."

Sherlock stepped more to the left to where he was visible from the slightly open door. His eyes darted to the side where he saw John holding his gun ready to pounce.

Sebastian closed his right hand around Ava's throat, "Don't move another inch or I'll crush her windpipe."

Sherlock raised his hands in defeat, but shot John the quickest of looks.

"How many people have you actually killed, Moran? _Ten_ or maybe _eleven_?"

Before Moran could even reply, John swung the door in quickly and fired in the direction that Sherlock had given him – between the 10 and 11 positions on a clock face. Moran crumpled and fell on top of Ava. The pressure of his body against hers woke Ava up. When she recognized who it was, she screamed and tried to force her way out from under the body. Sherlock rushed to remove Moran's body from her bed while John went to Ava to calm her.

"It's ok, Ava. It's John. Sherlock's here too."

"Moran's dead, John."

"See. Did you hear that? And we're not going to let anyone else hurt you – ever."

"What about Jim Dear?" Ava's voice trembled.

"You and Sherlock killed him. He can't hurt anybody ever again."

"Sherlock and I killed him? Funny that. I've never killed a man before." Ava's voice was distant and unsettled right before she passed out again.

Sherlock immediately called Lestrade. "Moran just tried to kill Ava."

"Tried?"

"And failed. John killed him to protect her. The quicker we can get this dead body out of her room the better. I'd rather her not wake up to see his corpse again."

When Lestrade and his men arrived, Lestrade gave his officers instructions to be extra quiet. Amazed that Ava was still alive and the implications of being with Moriarty all the time, even Donovan and Anderson worked without a snide comment to Sherlock or John. As they went about their work, Lestrade looked over to Ava.

"The poor kid. I don't like to imagine what she's been through."

"Well, it's over now. It'll take her time to heal though." John looked at the sleeping woman concern evident in his eyes.

"If there's anything I can do, guys, just let me know."

* * *

The second time Ava woke up, Moran's body was gone and Mycroft was sitting in a chair by her bed. John was in a second chair while Sherlock paced the floor. As Ava's eyes fluttered open, the first person she saw was Mycroft.

"My? Where am I? What happened? Where are they?"

"You are safe at Barts. Your shot pierced your large intestine, but the surgeon believes you'll make a complete recovery. You had very lucky aim."

"Luck had nothing to do with it. It was anatomy class. Where _are_ they?"

"If you are referring to Moriarty and Moran, they are both dead. In the morgue as we speak, actually."

"Sherlock and John?"

"We're right here, Avid." Sherlock moved to her bed but slowly not wanting to startle her.

"Both of us." John gently reached out and stroked her hand. "You're safe now, Ava."

"How did Sherlock and I kill Jim Dear?"

Sherlock cringed at the fact she still used that term for Moriarty but said nothing. Instead, John replied, "You shot him and then Sherlock dropped him from the rooftop because the emergency services were going to treat him first and not you."

"Oh. Dropped from the rooftop. That's good."

"Avid, do you remember anything about where you've been all this time?" Sherlock said softly.

John gave Sherlock a look of disapproval. This was too soon to ask her that. "Sherlock wants to start tracking down and dismantling the rest of Moriarty's organization. When you feel better, maybe you can tell us what you remember."

"I...I don't really want to remember that right now. I want to remember good things. Sherlock?"

"Yes, Avid."

"Are you and John together?"

"We are, thanks in large part to you."

"Good. Guys, you need to know something. About why I came to be with you in the first place."

At this Mycroft looked concerned, "Ava, I don't think that we need to go into that just yet."

"You came to work on the GMO problem." Sherlock said crinkling his brow as he did so.

"That was just a cunning ruse, Sherlock. Although, I do have quite a bit of information on the flash drive I had on me about that. No, Mycroft asked me to come hoping that I could get you and John to realize the truth."

"And what truth was that?" John ventured.

"That you love each other." Ava smiled weakly. "Oh, don't be too hard on Mycroft. No one could predict what happened to me."

Sherlock and John glared at Mycroft yet said nothing. They didn't want to upset her.

John tried to keep the tone light, "Ok, anymore confessions you want to make, you mad American?"

Ava's grin grew more like her old self, "Just one. Sherlock, you know when you accused me of drugging us all?"

"I do, Avid. And, I am so sorry. I should have never doubted you."

"Don't be sorry, Locky. You were right."

* * *

Again, thanks to you all for reading. This is the end for now. If I continue, it will be about Ava's recovery and more than a little angsty. But, I'll have to see if anyone wants me to do a continuation of her story along with more adventures for Sherlock and John. For the moment, I'm starting a more fun piece with John and Sherlock honeymooning in Tennessee. Cheers for reading.


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